


Peaches & Cream

by EmHunter



Series: 10 Things I Hate About Your Sweater [3]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Office, Anal Sex, Christophe Giacometti & Victor Nikiforov Friendship, Explicit Sexual Content, Father-Son Relationship, Friendship/Love, M/M, Phichit Chulanont & Katsuki Yuuri Are Best Friends, Secret Relationship, Shameless Smut, Suit Kink, do not copy to another site, mention of depression, sad Christophe Giacometti
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:20:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 149,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25767328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmHunter/pseuds/EmHunter
Summary: As CEO of one of Europe’s most prestigious business establishments, Christophe Giacometti has it all. Money, good looks, a successful company, a handsome lover, and the best friend in the world. He also has a dominant father and an infallible talent for turning into an arsehole for fear of letting anyone see the vulnerable man behind the mask.Phichit Chulanont has heard and experienced all the stories first hand, and more. The last thing he wants is to have anything to do with his boss at his lowest point. But his own family background will not be silenced, and suddenly he finds himself stuck with the last person on earth he ever wanted to have to heal.This is the story that started at the end of '10 Things I Hate About Your Sweater' with a nasty encounter by a bar. Or did it??
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov, Leo de la Iglesia/Ji Guang-Hong, Phichit Chulanont/Christophe Giacometti
Series: 10 Things I Hate About Your Sweater [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1727740
Comments: 457
Kudos: 281





	1. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look who's back! And now a 'rare pair writer'! xD This took me so much longer than I could have anticipated in my wildest dream! I am so sorry I made you wait. Life and theme weeks with other stories intervened, and if you know me a little by now, you know I never want to put out unless I'm sure I've done the best I can for a story and its characters. 
> 
> I thank each and every one already who's back on board for my favourite suit people. 
> 
> It's time for our sad Chris to start healing. 💔

**1 - Prologue**

_Dear Mr. Chulanont,_

_I understand you took pity on me last night._

_Thank you ever so much for making sure I did not die in a ditch somewhere._

_I’m aware that I’ve been an absolute dickhead and have said and done unforgivable things to you as well as to the people very dear to both you and me. I don’t know if I can ever make amends, but I hope you’ll believe me when I say that I am deeply sorry and that one day I may be forgiven. Please accept my sincere apologies for the distress and the inconveniences that I’ve caused._

_The clothes you so kindly provided me with will be returned to you as soon as they’re washed._

_Thank you once again for your kindness._

_Christophe Giacometti_

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Mr. Giacometti,

You’re ~~very~~ welcome.

The only reason you were not left to die in a ditch is that my best friend is currently riding off into the sunset with the love of his life a.k.a. your best friend to their well-deserved happy ending (no thanks to you). I didn’t want to burst the romantic bubble by having to ask for his help in the disposal of a body.

I appreciate and accept your apology.

As for forgiveness, you will understand that that’s not mine to give.

I took the liberty of replying to your note myself instead of forwarding it to my father in Thailand, as he is in fact Mr. Chulanont. For further reference and to avoid confusion and regrettable delays in communication due to notes having been redirected to Bangkok and back, it would probably be best if you called me by my first name.

I’m Phichit.


	2. Rock Bottom

**2 - Rock Bottom**

It was too warm inside the car. Phichit felt beads of sweat form on his brow even though he had taken off his coat and placed it on the passenger seat beside him. He worried his bottom lip between his teeth in concentration and perhaps also a little wrath as he carefully steered Sara’s Fiat through the city centre. Traffic was madness and people generally crazy even on foot, as was to be expected when the first Christmas markets closed up for the evening and the first company Christmas parties spat out their inebriated party folk into the Friday night to mingle with the usual crowd who was just hitting the town.

He had switched on the radio, very quietly, but he always felt calmer with music, and the well-known Bruno Mars song actually made a tiny smile tug on the corners of his mouth despite all. He changed lanes and followed the exit out of town. With Bruno Mars came thoughts of family, his parents’ voices very clear in his head for a moment with the one thing they had hammered home and that he was pretty sure was the only reason for this predicament he currently found himself in: _When someone needs help, you help._

The sudden voice from the backseat made him jump a little.

“You’re Phichit Chulanont, right? You work in the newsroom with Sara.”

Phichit made a noncommittal sound in his throat, just about audible.

“Where are you taking me?”

“Home,” Phichit replied curtly. He really didn’t want to talk to him. He hated this whole situation, and he would never let Sara live this down.

“Home... well... I guess at least my cat will be glad to see me.”

There was silence for a few moments. And then a really weird, muffled sound that made the hair in the back of Phichit’s neck stand up. Was that.... oh God. Oh. Fuck, no!

Phichit groaned inwardly and rolled his eyes.

Christophe Giacometti was crying like a baby in the back of Sara’s car and Phichit was supposed to drop him off home. He had fixed about a million problems in his life but right now, he was scared. What if he took that loser home and he wandered out again and something happened to his sorry ass? He was good-looking, kind of famous. And vulnerable. And loaded. Anyone could take advantage of him. And even if he stayed home. What if he drank more? What if he threw up and choked on his own vomit? What if he died? What if nobody checked on him all weekend and his housekeeper came in on Monday morning and found his body, cold and disgusting and his cat licking puke off his face? What if the cat died??? It would all be Phichit’s fault for leaving him alone. Phichit would have killed their boss. And his cat.

“Thank you,” came a very teary voice from the backseat. “You’re very kind.”

“CRAP!” Phichit yelled and slammed his hand against the steering wheel. Against better knowledge, he hit the breaks, turned the car round at the next possibility, and went to his own home instead.

When he found a parking space right outside their building, he wanted to cry with relief.

He sat in the car for a couple of minutes, seatbelt off, taking deep breaths. The sobs from the backseat had subsided, and if he hadn’t heard quiet snores and clogged up breathing Phichit was about three hundred per cent sure he would have freaked out by now. At last he exhaled audibly and opened the car door. The cold of the November night made him hiss through his teeth immediately. He grabbed his coat from the passenger seat as he got out and quickly put it on. He slipped his phone and his wallet into the pockets and slid the camera bag over his shoulder before he closed the driver’s door.

After another deep breath, Phichit opened the rear door.

He was asleep.

It had its ups and downs. On the plus side he wouldn’t need to talk to him. However, he also had to get him out of the car and upstairs somehow. Resolutely, he started to shake him awake by his shoulder, gently at first, then with more vigour, until Chris’ eyes fluttered opened and he woke up with a groan. Phichit puffed out his cheeks. The guy stank like a whole bar, and that was definitely snot drying on one of his sleeves.

“Come on.” Phichit half pulled him out of the car and quickly nudged his shoulder under one of his arms to steady him. “Try to stay upright until I get you upstairs, okay?”

“Can I sleep then? I don’t feel so good.” Chris sounded like a sick toddler

Phichit scrunched up his face as his alcohol breath hit him. “Yes,” he replied curtly. He slammed the door shut and made sure the car was locked.

By the time he opened the door to his apartment, Phichit was drenched with sweat in his scarf and winter coat. His mind was raging with a million pissed off texts he wanted to send to Sara for landing him in this situation, supporting his half-conscious boss and dragging him inside.

In his bedroom, he pushed Chris unceremoniously onto the bed. He passed straight out.

Phichit exhaled a long sigh of relief.

He got rid of his coat and scarf and paused in front of his bed for a moment, hands on his hips as he tried to think of what to do first. The chair by his bed still had all kinds of clothes piled on it from the different outfits he had tried on for the Christmas party. It seemed ages ago now. Had it really only been earlier this same evening? Ragged breaths mixed with low, drunken snores were coming from Chris who lay on the bed on his stomach, face turned sideways on the pillow.

In the end he decided on starting with the shoes. Going through the motions didn’t calm him down like he had hoped to, Phichit noticed as he put the shoes neatly under the chair and cleared the chair by his bed and shoved all his clothes into his wardrobe and then started to wrestle Chris’ sleeping form out of his suit. It wasn’t as easy as he had thought it would be. Undressing his drunken boss was certainly different from shoving Yuuri or Guang Hong or Leo about and just pulling on their clothes until they would come off. Flustered, Phichit fell into the one habit of his he did not like and simply had no control over.

He started talking to himself.

“Fuck, what am I going to do? … Don’t die on me, d’you hear? …. Damn, Yuuri, why do you have to get laid just now when I could really use your help here?”

He turned Chris on his back and looked at his face for a moment.

“You’re cute for a scumbag,” he muttered before he, very slowly, tried to wrestle his pants off him.

“Oh…”

Phichit paused. Tried not to stare too much at Chris’ body. He absolutely did not notice how long and toned his legs were. And by no means did he pay even the slightest bit of attention to the stylish black briefs and what they covered.

For a moment he contemplated whether to try taking off his socks too but then decided against it. Some people had really sensitive feet, he didn’t want to wake him up again. So he picked up the suit from the floor instead. He folded up the pants. Frowned at the soiled sleeves of the jacket. Some dry cleaner would have fun trying to get the snot out of that. Inner pockets weighed the sides of the jacket down, so Phichit reached inside and took out the wallet, keys and phone. Once he had folded up the suit he placed it on the chair in a neat pile and put everything else on top.

He walked over to his wardrobe and bit back a curse when all the Christmas party outfits he had stuffed inside tumbled out the moment he opened the door. He grabbed a pair of casual pants that were too long for him and a comfortable sweater, shoved everything else back inside and leaned against the wardrobe door for a moment.

The pants and sweater he placed over the back of the chair where they were easily spotted.

He set out a bottle of water and some aspirin on his bedside table and put a bucket beside the bed.

It was all that he could do. 

For a moment, Phichit looked down at the sleeping man in his bed. He had not stirred since his head hit the pillow. He looked young, his features softened. Phichit thought he could still see traces of tears on his face, but he guessed it was just his imagination. He frowned, eyebrows hitting his hairline for a moment as he quietly wondered just what the fuck was his life.

He switched off the bedside lamp before he left the room, hoping that Chris would be okay by himself, but Phichit was really at his wits’ and his patience’s end.

Outside in the hall he took Yuuri’s spare key from the drawer in the sideboard he kept it in and left his apartment without a sound to spend the night next door on Yuuri’s sofa.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Chris woke up with a wince. There was the semi darkness of a grey, grey morning all around him, faintest light that spoke of a dreary day on the other side of the curtain.

His eyes were burning, and he groaned quietly when it occurred to him he had passed out with his contact lenses still in and woken up in an unfamiliar place with neither eye drops nor his glasses nearby.

Dread filled his insides, his limbs as heavy as if instead of blood it was gooiest tar slugging through his veins. Victor. He needed to speak to Victor. His head felt about ready to split when he moved it, but he saw a chair by the end of the bed and on it, on top of what looked like a neatly folded pile of the suit he had worn the night before, he spotted his phone. Moving was a great effort. The blanket slid half off of him as he sat up and instantly the room started spinning. He might have whimpered, putting one leg down on the ground and then the other, holding on to the bed all the time as he moved in slow motion and hated himself until he was able to reach his phone with one outstretched arm and slowly retreated back into bed. Tears were burning in his eyes and threatening to fall. He almost managed to convince himself that it was just the forgotten contacts, and that the noise in his head was just the hangover army beating him up with small hammers and not his father’s voice sneering at him for being a big cry baby and not a man.

Back in bed he closed his eyes for a moment and tried to breathe. It didn’t matter how bad he felt, he deserved it. But there was one thing he had to do that could not wait. He _had_ to call Victor.

Chris forced his eyes back open. His phone did not recognise him, the screen remained locked. His bitter laugh caught in his throat and fought its way out as a throaty sob. Of course. Not even your phone wants to have anything to do with you, the snarky voice inside his mind whispered. He typed in the code with great effort and went directly to his calls, dialling the number at the top of the list.

The call went straight to voicemail. Of course, he thought again. He lowered his arm to the top of the blanket. Holding his phone had taken everything out of him. 

His stomach started heaving and he rolled over again until, cursing himself for forgetting that he should never lie on his back when he was this hungover.

He breathed deeply, forcing air into his lungs and waves of nausea down with every loud, struggling wheeze. Tears shot to his eyes, caused by absolutely everything - the shame, the headache, the hurt over what he remembered having said to Victor, his eyes burning from the contacts still in, his father’s words, getting dumped, the dizziness, the absolute humiliation of lying face down in a stranger’s bed with his head hanging over the side of the bed just in case he would puke his guts up into a blue plastic bucket someone had been kind enough to leave beside the bed.

After a couple of minutes he calmed, his stomach settled. He forced himself into a sitting position again, very carefully. It only took him about five attempts and great effort to unscrew the lid of the new bottle of water that sat on the bedside table and to push some aspirin through the foil. Pills washed down with almost half the bottle of water he leaned back against the head of the bed and closed his eyes. If only painkillers would work against his father’s voice too. Eventually, he forced his eyes open once more to look around. It was a normal bedroom, somewhat on the smaller side. The wardrobe was actually the largest piece of furniture he could see. There was a basic shelf with several small compartments on the wall - a Buddha statue in the centre, others holding an elephant, some coloured boxes, and several Japanese figurines of computer game characters. 

On the wall opposite the bed, the largest pin board he had ever seen took up most of the wall space. It was bigger than the picture frame with the snapshots from the company summer party Victor had in his office. And so colourful. Like a joyful 3D collage. There was a bright pink feather boa wound across the top. A dried rose, the red still deep and luscious. And photographs. So many photographs. A lot of them showed sunsets from all kinds of places. He recognised landmarks from all over the world, every single picture tastefully done. Others showed people.

Some of the people in the pictures he didn’t know. Others, he knew quite well.

And one he knew very, very well.

Serves you right, the demons in his head whispered. Of course Victor would go and find other friends. You are toxic. Victor deserves better than this. But it was the joy and deep friendship sparking from just those photos alone made him pick up his phone again. His heart hammered a painful tune of remorse and longing in his chest, louder and louder as he listened to the phone ringing and ringing without getting picked up. No voicemail. Only conscious ignoring.

He waited a little longer for the painkillers to hit, then he carefully swung his legs out of bed. Something stung painfully deep inside when he realised how neatly his clothes had been folded, how his shoes stood perfectly aligned. Even his wallet and keys were propped up carefully. His suit looked a mess, he noticed when he unfolded it and saw the crumples, felt the stiffness in one sleeve and pulled a disgusted face when he inspected the stains. He could already imagine the hell his dry cleaner would give him. And then he felt even more like a failure when he saw that clothes had been left out for him to wear, and the mere fact the someone, anyone, would show so much kindness to a train wreck like him, made his chest feel tight with something he really didn’t want to face right at the his moment.

Dressed and clutching his things to his chest, he carefully opened the bedroom door. A small hallway lay right outside, a door slightly ajar right opposite seemed to lead to a bathroom, judging from the white tiles he was able to make out through the narrow strip of open door. The apartment was silent, and he walked into the living room without a sound. It was deserted, as was the small open kitchen. The curtains weren’t drawn, and dreary, grey November daylight seeped in and made the empty apartment seem even quieter.

Chris started to look around for something to write, reluctant to leave without showing his gratitude. There was a desk in the corner, sporting a large screen with speakers, a keyboard and what looked like a gaming head set beside it, and, much to his relief, also a notepad and an assortment of pens. He wrote a thank you note, trying hard to make his handwriting look composed and neat, and propped it up so that it was visible right away on the table. Then he took out his phone, checked his location, and called a taxi.

He left without a sound, pulled the door shut behind him as gently as he could but made sure it was really closed before he walked up to the lift and waited impatiently for it to come up. The taxi was arriving when he stepped out of the building, cold air slapping him in the face right away and forcing him to be awake. Bits and pieces of memories from the previous night made him huddle in one corner of the backseat of the taxi as he took a deep breath and called Victor’s number again. The call went straight to voicemail.

By the time he came home his eyes were burning and leaking tears. He cursed his damned fancy glass fronts; even the dreary late autumn light was already too bright when creeping in through the countless windows he usually loved so much. Chris stumbled into the bathroom adjoining the master bedroom and cursed the lights all the while he put in eye drops and waited for his lenses to be moist enough to be removed. The moment they came out he cursed again, this time with sheer relief. He dropped them into cleaning solution, applied some more eye drops and switched off the bathroom light on his way out. His glasses remained on the bedside table as he stripped completely and crawled between the sheets, hiding from the world as he fell into a deep sleep.

He woke up in the early afternoon, his bedroom lying almost in complete darkness. The weather must be shitty, he reckoned, or a little more light would seep in through the slits in the blinds. Reaching up blindly with one hand he switched on a subtle light built into the headboard of his bed and grabbed his glasses and his phone from the bedside table.

No messages. No missed calls.

Chris sucked air so deeply into his lungs that he felt it burning. The movements came automatically. Unlock. Phone. Recent. Victor. Connect. He hated how ragged every breath sounded in his chest as he listened to the phone ringing. And ringing more. Until it stopped when the call was rejected.

Serves you right, the voices inside his head murmured again. You’ve driven away your only friend.

Defeat and shame curled up around him like unwelcome lovers. He knew they wouldn’t cease taunting and coaxing until they had him flat on his back and sobbing into his pillows, sucking the very life out of him.

Chris dropped his phone and glasses back on the bedside table, switched off the light, and succumbed to his darkness.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

A sound from the hallway made Phichit jerk awake from a light slumber. A door, he realised. _His_ door, being pulled shut. He sat up straight, listening carefully, and he thought he could hear the faint footfall of someone walking away from his door, the sound of expensive shoes on the hallway floor getting quieter. In the silence of the Saturday morning he could hear the low rumble of the lift and its door sliding open. It was only when the sound continued that Phichit noticed he had been holding his breath and only exhaled when he heard the lift that took Chris away.

He pushed off the cuddly blanket he had grabbed from the back of Yuuri’s sofa and draped over himself, jumped up and crossed the room swiftly until he could peek out the window through a tiny gap in the curtains. A taxi was pulling up on the pavement outside their building, and he saw the tousled crop of blond curls and his own pants and sweater, last night’s suit folded up under his arms as he got in the back of the car, one of those ridiculously long legs pulled in last. Phichit shook his head; the memory of the close-up of those legs, bare and toned, was most unwelcome. The taxi drove off, and Phichit allowed himself to breathe again.

It felt weird entering his own apartment. The pictures in his head would not be stopped. He almost tried to catch a remnant of cologne in the air before he mentally whacked himself over the head. Not that there would have been a point, the way Chris had reeked of alcohol. The note struck his interest and he walked up to his desk and picked it up, reading quietly.

Phichit lowered the sheet of paper. He felt slightly irritated, wishing the man didn’t know so well how to express himself. It made him want to write back.

He froze in the door of his bedroom. He had made the bed. Damn him. Why had he made the bed? As if he was human! Luckily his phone buzzed in his pocket at this moment and stopped the thought spiral he felt himself dropping into. His face was already widening with a lewd grin at the prospect of sending Yuuri a teasing message back as he took his phone from his pocket. It wasn’t Yuuri, but his smile stayed in place when he read the message from his sister.

_Are we still on for gaming? My geography paper sucked, I need to trash some idiots and bitch about graphics I could do better._

Phichit stifled a yawn. Suddenly he felt very, very tired. But his bed was still smelling of the man who had slept in it, and he needed some proper sleep after the restless night he had spent on Yuuri’s couch. He texted his sister to give him until the afternoon, then he would meet her in their usual place.

Their usual place was a shady tavern in their online game. A couple of hours of sleep and a shower later, the sheets changed on his bed and every reminder of Chris’ ever having been here gone, Phichit was seated at his desk with several take-out cartons beside the keyboard, the mini fridge in the corner of his desk well stocked, the controller in his hands and his head set in place.

“sawasdee khaa, Phi.”

He smiled when the voice came over his headphones.

“sawasdee khrap.” Phichit adjusted his mic. “What’s new, other than that you suck at geography?”

They fell into a light banter, real life mixing with game strategics thrown in while on screen their characters left the tavern and set out on a quest, determined to turn the weekend into one long game. Both their characters were female, Phichit’s tall and fair-skinned, clad in the most stylish outfits and accessories he knew the game had to offer. His sister’s character reminded him a lot of her. What the outfit and hairdo lacked in style and fashion she made up for with the variety and high levels of her weapons.

“Okay, Fluffy, let’s kick some monster ass!” Phichit opened a can of coke with a loud hiss. He grinned, knowing she hated the nickname he had given her, and was just about able to tolerate it because of Harry Potter.

“I hate when you call me that.”

“You know I can’t say your name or my phone’s assistant will wake up and ask me how she can help me!”

“Get a different phone, Apricot.”

“I hate when you call me that.”

“Your ass is nowhere near as nice as Yuuri’s, you have no right to be Peach.”

“I wish you were this mouthy when we Skype and tell Yuuri that yourself.”

“Shut up and let’s kick some monster ass!” his sister said and let her character give his a shove.

It was one of Phichit’s favourite pastimes, not just playing and losing himself in a fantasy world, but also reconnecting with home. Meeting his sister at least online, slaying monsters while they had a laugh and talked about everything under the sun. And right now, on this weekend, it was the best distraction he could think of.

He was on his last carton of take-out when another player crossed their path and paused.

“Oh no!” Phichit groaned around a mouthful of fried rice while his sister cursed at the same time. He knew he should call her out on her choice of words but this was an emergency. “It’s fucking Lucifer!”

It was a tall, bulky character, gender unclear because it was simply not recognisable behind the mask and heavy armour. The name was aptly chosen. They sported sparkling red devil horns, all their skills were at an insanely high level, and like the biggest bully in the school ground, they always found _them_. Both Phichit and his sister hated Lucifer666 with a passion and never resisted the chance to fight. They had never gained anything from their two-against-one fights except levelling up, and they always got quite vocal, yelling abuse at the insults Lucifer would hurl their way via their keyboard, small pop-up dialogues filling their screens like mockery.

Lucifer thrashed them good. To add insult to injury, the dialogue screen popped up time and again filled with laughing demon emojis. Almost two hours later, exhausted after they had run out potions a long time ago, both their characters were lying on the virtual forest ground, defeated so well that they were barely able to get up again. Lucifer hoisted their huge battle axe over their shoulder, accomplished. Even the character’s face looked smug, Phichit thought, and muttered a curse.

A low crackle sounded on the audio before a new voice came over the headphones.

“That was fun. I’m going to bed now. See you next time when I smash you, losers.”

“‘night, grandma.” Phichit grinned. “Next time we’ll kick your ass, I promise!”

“Good. I like my grandchildren to have ambitions.” She laughed. It sounded evil.

They exchanged some more pleasantries in Thai before their grandmother logged off and Phichit was left with his sister, both of them very quiet now as they had their characters get up from the floor and checked their stats on screen. It was a sorry sight. Dramatic sighs from different ends of the world met on their headphones. As usual, it was Phichit’s sister who refused to give up just yet.

“Reload our levels in the spa, Apricot?”

“You’re on, Fluffy.”

It was late Sunday morning when Phichit finally took off his head seat and switched off his computer. He ate the last of the fried rice cold from the take-out carton, staggered to bed and slept until a phone call from Yuuri woke him up in the early evening.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

On Tuesday morning Chris was drying his hands in the men’s room when he heard the door outside fly open and agitated voices from the washroom. Strangely enough the first thing that came to his mind was how much sound was amplified by the marble. Only then did he bite back a wince when he recognised the voices. Quite clearly Yuuri was not as glad and relieved about Victor agreeing to meet him for a drink in the evening as Victor was. Frozen in place and holding on to the towel, Chris felt the familiar plummeting feeling of guilt, not unlike when his father talked to him. Ever since Victor had told him Yuuri had overheard their toxic fight on Friday night, Chris had been feeling remorseful.

“Yuuri.” Victor sounded gentle but firm. “You don’t know Chris like I do.”

“That is a stupid cliché line from the movies, I didn’t expect to hear this from you!”

Chris heard Victor laugh softly in reply, but Yuuri went on relentlessly.

“From my point of view, Victor, he’s a terrible person! The way he talked about me. The way he talked to you! His best friend, supposedly. Who says things like that to his best friend!”

You’re right, Chris thought. I am a terrible person.

“He’s hurting.” Oh Victor, Chris thought fondly and closed his eyes for a moment.

“You cannot forgive him for everything on the grounds that he’s hurting. At some point you need to stop messing up and get your act together.”

“Says the man who hit on his boss when he was hurting so that I would hurt, too?” Victor asked softly. Chris could just imagine how he must be cocking one eyebrow meaningfully now.

“You knew?” Yuuri’s gasp was audible. “You _knew_ that’s why I was doing that?!”

“Of course I knew, my darling, it was blatantly obvious to everyone!”

Chris bit back a smile. He was sure Victor was doing the very same right now, just as he was sure Yuuri must be obviously flustered.

“Yuuri. Yuuri, listen to me. Chris is a very troubled and very lonely man. He hates himself most of all at the moment. He needs a friend, and he has nobody. I grew up without parents and yet I was still more loved than Chris who grew up with a mother and a father, isn’t that paradox? When we grew up Mickey and Sara would always be cuddled and kissed by their parents, and even I sometimes had Yakov and Lilia at least give me a very stiff and clumsy hug, and a rare smile. They smiled mostly when they thought I wasn’t looking. But Chris’ parents never smiled. They never gave him a kiss or a hug, they never told him they loved him or that they’re proud of him. Whenever he accomplished something, they nodded like it was something that was expected of him anyway.”

Yuuri huffed. Looking down, Chris could see that his knuckles stood out white where he was clutching the towel so hard. He swallowed, terrified even the smallest movement like releasing his grip could give away his presence. Victor’s words had been like a knife stuck in his heart and twisted around for good measure.

“Don’t huff at me, my darling.” There was Victor’s soft laughter again, and the rustle of clothes. Chris guessed that Victor was pulling Yuuri close. “Yuuri. I love you, so very much. You make me complete. But I need you to understand that I’m always going to be there for Chris, just like you are always going to be there for Phichit.”

After they were gone, Chris waited a couple of minutes before he thought it was safe to leave the bathroom. He had almost reached the door that led to his office from the hall when Yuuri came out of the conference room, carrying a tray holding the coffee cups from this morning’s meeting. He froze when he saw Chris. His eyes darted from Chris to the bathroom door and back to Chris, his face colouring crimson with embarrassment when he realised that Chris had come from the bathroom and had most likely overheard him and Victor in a bizarre, almost perverted replay of Friday night. But Yuuri didn’t say a word. If anything, his face took on a defiant expression of no regret when he straightened his shoulders and turned away to take the tray to the kitchen.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Wednesday was a quiet day in the newsroom. There were no meetings, and Phichit leaned back in his chair, one ankle on the knee of his other leg as he chewed on the end of a pencil while looking at a selection of pictures on the screen in front of him on his desk. He had set Yura to comb through their social media channels for any comments they might have overlooked during the recent crisis. The video of Chris with the little girl on site in Turkey still got tons of clicks and comments every day. Phichit rolled his eyes when he heard Yura snicker and saw he was in the comment section reading an entry interspersed with a fair amount of heart emojis.

An incoming email had Phichit shoot up straight in his seat when he saw the name of the sender pop up briefly on the edge of his screen. He planted his legs firmly on the floor and pushed his chair in to his desk. Casting a glance at Yura, he saw him scowling at this keyboard, every touch to the keys an effort that said very clearly how much he would have liked to type something else. Satisfied, Phichit jumped to his email inbox and clicked on the mail.

From: c.giacometti@crispinogiacometti.com

To: p.chulanont@crispinogiacometti.com

Subject: Return of clothes

_Dear Phichit,_

_Thank you for your note, which Yuuri was so kind as to slam wordlessly on my desk along with my mail this morning. Would it be terribly rude of me to seek your advice regarding making things up to him?_

_On the bright side, Victor is still speaking to me, and we managed to patch things up at least a little over drinks last night._

_The clothes you lent me so kindly are washed and ironed. Please let me know how and when it would be convenient to return them to you._

_Chris_

Whoa, Phichit thought and tried to maintain a straight face. _Chris_. Phichit took the pencil from his mouth and tapped it lightly on his desk as he thought of an answer. Yura shot him an irritated glare. Phichit knew Yura hated that tapping on the desk with a pen, and Phichit put the pen down with a sigh. Moments later he was pounding an unsteady rhythm on the table top with his fingertips, chin propped up in one hand as he contemplated his reply. Yura made a sound not unlike a hiss but Phichit ignored him.

He went back and forth over several approaches in his head until he decided he was taking way too long thinking about this and typed a reply that came straight from his gut feeling.

From: p.chulanont@crispinogiacometti.com

To: c.giacometti@crispinogiacometti.com

Subject: RE: Return of clothes

_Christophe,_

_I’m taking a wild guess here but maybe my boy would be a lot nicer to you if you hadn’t gotten Victor so shit-faced last night that he wasn’t able to get it up._

_I’m happy to hear my clothes are washed, I quite miss that sweater. Can I collect them tonight?_

_Phichit_

He hit _Send_ before he could change his mind and leaned back in his seat, exhaling loudly with his cheeks puffed out.

The reply came within the next two three minutes. Not that he checked.

From: c.giacometti@crispinogiacometti.com

To: p.chulanont@crispinogiacometti.com

Subject: RE: RE: Return of clothes

_Phichit,_

_I’ll be home from 5, feel free to drop by any time after that._

_Just making sure – you do know my address, right? Let me know if you need directions._

_Christophe_

Back at Christophe again. Phichit grinned at his screen, until he caught Yura looking at him with interest and quickly sobered up. He pushed his chair further in to his desk and reopened the pictures he had been working on, though not without firing off a quick reply first.

From: p.chulanont@crispinogiacometti.com

To: c.giacometti@crispinogiacometti.com

Subject: RE: RE: RE: Return of clothes

_Christophe,_

_Despite ending up taking you somewhere else Friday night, I do know the way to your house._

_See you tonight._

_Phichit_

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The wooden door swung open and Phichit’s jaw almost dropped.

Chris was wearing jeans and a light green cashmere sweater that brought out the green eyes behind the round frames of his glasses most prominently. He looked like an absolute babe, and suddenly Phichit found himself struggling to fervently remind himself what an arsehole this man was, no matter how good-looking.

“Hi,” Phichit said, silently congratulating himself on how nonchalant he made it sound.

“Phichit. Hello.” Chris sounded just as nonchalant as he stepped aside and opened the door wider. “Do come in. Can I take your coat?”

Perfect gentleman, Phichit thought as he stepped inside and automatically slipped his shoes off by the door. He handed Chris his coat and looked up at the room in front of them.

And now his jaw really did hit the floor.

The villa had looked unspectacular enough from the street as he had parked in the paved driveway. Just another one of the fancy, sheltered houses in this quiet, well-off neighbourhood outside the city, Phichit had thought. Now he saw that almost the entire front facing away from the street was made up of huge windows looking out at the largest garden Phichit had ever seen. Everything was open and inviting, white walls inlaid with the warm reddish tone of what Phichit was sure was cherry wood he could see in every door frame, beam and banister. Despite the ultramodern interior all the colours were well chosen. Looking around a spacious living room they stepped in right from the door, Phichit’s eyes roamed over dining and reading areas he could see left and right. Elegant furniture, creams and mints and greys, cushions in soft greens and strong blues placed strategically on two huge, crescent shaped cream-coloured leather couches with a designer coffee table between them. His sweater and pants sat in a neat, folded pile on one end of the couch closest to him. Phichit, who had spent a fair part of his adolescence making collages of how he would furnish his potential future homes, was living.

“Would you like a tour?”

He swung around. Chris was leaning against one of the white pillars to the left and right from the entry that almost looked like a gateway into the living room area, looking on patiently with his arms crossed in front of him and the hint of a smile on his face.

“Of your house?” Phichit’s eyes widened. He really should grab his clothes and leave. “Hell, yes!”

Chris chuckled and peeled himself off the pillar. He led the way up a polished wooden staircase and Phichit followed eagerly, his eyes roving left and right like a child’s in a sweets shop, lapping up every detail. For the next fifteen minutes Phichit did nothing but gape and make enthusiastic sounds he wasn’t successful at keeping in. He thought that none of this should have surprised him. But it did. He had known that Chris was a rich bitch, but this surpassed even Phichit’s vibrant imagination. There were more bedrooms and bathrooms than a single person had use for, an indoor gym, a game room, a wine cellar. A swimming pool in the basement, for fuck’s sake! A gallery on the first floor with framed photographs lining the walls all around that Phichit wished he’d have more time to study in detail. But one of them by a photographer who was one his idols had already sent him into some excited puppy sounds and motions, so he tried to pull himself together.

The most stunning asset of the house, however, were the windows. Phichit’s gaze was drawn to the view again and again, and by the time they were back on the ground floor and Chris suggested they put shoes and coats on if they were going outside, Phichit had to slow down so as not to appear too eager.

The garden was wide and spacious. Tall hedges fenced it on the three sides that were not fronted by the house, and apart from a row of beautiful old trees at the lower end it was just lawn. A huge barbecue grill stood in one corner of the large, tiled terrace, the feet just about visible under the protective cover sporting the name of its expensive, well-known maker.

A large covered area struck Phichit’s interest next and he wandered over.

“What the… is this a pool?” He prodded the sturdy fabric with one foot very carefully, then took a cautious step back because the telltale natural stone tiles around the swung edges pretty much answered his question.

“But you just showed me an indoor pool! Holy shit! You have two swimming pools??” Phichit realised he was probably shouting and shut up, but he kept on walking through the softly illuminated garden with his eyes and mouth wide open.

“And all this is your garden?” He swung around to where Chris was still standing on the terrace, looking a little timid with one hand behind his head, scratching at his hair. He nodded at Phichit’s question.

Phichit came back over to the terrace. Marvelled at the elegantly wound feet of the patio table and chairs.

“You need a dog with this garden.” He motioned at the vast stretch of green. “Why haven’t you got a dog?”

“Simple reason.” Chris began to smile. “Cat person.”

As if on cue something that resembled a fluffy white cloud was coming through the open patio door and walking majestically across the terrace, all the way over to where Phichit was still admiring the elegant furniture. He felt soft pressure as the cat started moving through his legs, rubbing her head against his shin in doing so. Phichit looked down and remained standing very still, not wanting to scare the cat away. Bloody hell, he thought. Even his cat looked expensive. And then he heard a low sound. A purr, he realised. The expensive cat was purring!

“She likes you.” Looking up, he saw Chris was still smiling. 

Phichit frowned and turned his attention on the garden.

“You know,” he motioned towards the lower end with the trees. “If you put up a gazebo down there you could really help Victor set up the perfect dream date for Yuuri without them running in danger of being arrested for indecent exposure if Yuuri ends up jumping Victor from gratitude right there in the park.”

He noticed too late he was rambling. But Chris’ eyebrows had already risen with interest.

“Why don’t I fix us a hot chocolate and you tell me more?” he asked, quietly amused and curious alike and motioned towards the kitchen behind him with a nod of his head.

Phichit knew he should just grab his clothes he had come to collect but much to his own surprise he found himself nodding and heading towards the open terrace door.

“Rani!”

Phichit swung around when Chris called the name.

“Sorry, I…” Chris shrugged and nodded towards the garden, where the white fur of his cat could be just made out in the dusk, close to one of the hedges at the lower end where she sat patiently, watching something that only she was aware of. “I’m afraid I’m one of these people who not only treat their cat like a queen but also named her appropriately.”

He called out again, and the cat actually listened, even though she walked up from the garden slowly and majestically, head and tail high in the air as she passed them by and disappeared inside the house. Phichit followed slowly, busy fighting down a comment on how Chris’ cat had the same name as his favourite Bollywood actress.

The kitchen sent Phichit into another frenzy. His fingers itched with the wish to open every single one of the stylish white cabinets and look inside. There was a silver-fronted fridge and what he guessed was a freezer beside it. They both reached almost from floor to ceiling. State-of-the-art kitchen appliances lined the work-top and made Phichit want to start cooking right away. It cost him all his willpower to remain standing by the detached breakfast counter in the middle of the room, but he crossed his arms in front of his chest for fear of touching things after all.

“You must have a ball every time you cook,” he remarked as casually as he could. “This is the most amazing kitchen I have ever seen in a private home.”

“I probably would if I ever cooked,” Chris replied and got two mugs down from one of the cabinets. “The sad truth however is that they are mostly for show. Sara is the one who has the ball whenever she comes over.”

Phichit nearly doubled over with surprise, mouth and eyes wide open.

“You have all these gadgets and you never cook??” he managed to utter at last.

“No. I don’t know how to use any of these except for the kettle and the microwave. My cleaner takes pity on me sometimes and stacks my freezer with home-cooked meals because she thinks I need to be fed some proper food, but other than that…”

Chris shrugged and opened the fridge door. It was so tall that he disappeared behind it completely.

“Wow, that sounds very…” Phichit cut himself off.

“Mhm?” Chris looked around the fridge door, a bottle of milk in his hands. A bottle!

Sad, Phichit thought but didn’t say out loud.

Chris closed the fridge and reached up to open another one of the cabinets. His sweater slid up in the movement, revealing a stretch of toned stomach. Phichit averted his eyes. He only looked up again when the microwave pinged and Chris took out the mugs in which he had heated the milk. He placed a tin of Whittard Luxury Hot Chocolate on the breakfast counter beside the mugs and started heaping table spoons of chocolate powder into the milk, stirring quickly yet without anything sloshing over the brim, which told Phichit that this was a well-practised skill. Just when he thought it looked creamy and mouthwatering enough, Chris raised one hand with his finger poised to indicate to wait just a moment. He headed back over the fridge.

“Fuck, no!” Phichit exclaimed when Chris turned around and he saw what he had gotten from the fridge. “You’re going to ruin Whittard Luxury Hot Chocolate with canned whipped cream?! Really?!”

Chris chuckled. A smooth, deep sound. “Since I don’t know how to use my kitchen machine to whip it myself, I’ll have to resort to his.”

“That’s not an acceptable excuse.” Phichit watched him spray cream toppings onto the hot chocolate in their mugs with a sad sigh, but he gratefully accepted the mug Chris pushed his way. Pleasant warmth seeped into his hands where he wrapped them around the thick porcelain.

“So, shall we… sit?” Phichit looked around the kitchen demonstratively. The only thing it did not have was furniture to sit on. No chairs, no table.

“Absolutely.” Chris picked up the other mug and pointed towards an opening without a door that led to one of the two octagonal jutties Phichit had stared in awe at from the garden because they looked like pretty pavilions protruding from the house. The one they found themselves in now was lit in soft, warm lights from spotlights in the ceiling and had a large round glass table with padded dining room chairs around it. It looked out into the dark garden, and Phichit immediately had to think of how perfect it would be working here at this table.

“So, Phichit…” He looked up and noticed with surprise that Chris had pulled out one of the chairs for him. “Help me plot Victor’s perfect date?”

It was later than Phichit had anticipated when he was finally taking his leave. So much later in fact that he didn’t dare look at his phone because whatever time it was, it was most definitely not I’m-snatching-my-clothes-from-his-hands-and-heading-straight-home o’clock. He was buttoning up his coat while Chris was already by the door, ready to hold it open for him. Phichit looked up when Chris spoke.

“So. Can I… thank you for Friday night somehow? For…” Chris paused. Cleared his throat. He seemed to need to gather courage to speak the words. It made Phichit feel pinned to the pillar in his back, unable to move, or look away from him. “For taking care of me.”

“Like what?” Phichit cocked one eyebrow.

Chris cocked his head. “Dinner?”

“You can’t cook.”

“My skills at ordering in food are unparalleled.”

For a long moment they looked at each other, until they both started to smile.

“You’re funny,” Phichit said. “I didn’t expect you to be funny.”

Chris shrugged, almost a little embarrassed.

“I’ll think about it,” Phichit said and moved towards the door.

“Of course.” Chris opened the door and stepped out of his way.

“Thank you for these.” Phichit hoisted the folded pants and sweater he was holding a little towards him.

“I’m the one who has to say thank you.”

“Goodnight.” Phichit walked through the door and turned again. Chris looked soft, the lights from the living room in his back, the room looking so cosy that one could almost forgot how lonely it was.

“Goodnight, Phichit.” Chris smiled. He gave a small nod of farewell. Then he closed the door.

Phichit looked at the red wood for a moment before he turned away and walked towards his car.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

On Friday morning, pondering over the newsletter for their website, Phichit found himself in a moment of ‘I feel like talking to you, but I don’t really want to talk to you at all’ that made him open a new email before he even realised what he was doing.

From: p.chulanont@crispinogiacometti.com

To: c.giacometti@crispinogiacometti.com

Subject: Dinner

_Christophe,_

_I cannot stop thinking about your poor unused kitchen appliances._

The moment he sent it he asked himself what the hell had gotten into him that made him write and send that mail. Face burning up, he leaned close to the screen like someone short-sighted and started typing frantically on the news block. The pop-up that announced an incoming email made him pause momentarily. He was quite proud of himself that he finished the text he was working on first before he opened his email, his fingers moving stealthily like a thief in the night.

From: c.giacometti@crispinogiacometti.com

To: p.chulanont@crispinogiacometti.com

Subject: RE: Dinner

_Phichit,_

_If you ever feel like coming by and saying Hello, I’m sure they will appreciate the attention. I’m pretty certain I’ve noticed them eyeing the kettle and the microwave rather jealously._

Oh god, Phichit cringed. He closed the email and went back to the next news block he was working on. It wasn’t until Yura asked him what the fuck was wrong with him that Phichit realised he was grinning from ear to ear.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Friday evening saw Chris on the treadmill of his small gym. Looking out over the garden and the setting November sun, his feet hit the running belt almost in time with the song pounding so loud through the headphones that it was all he could hear. Even his heartbeat thundering against his ribcage, the rush of blood in his ears, was drowned out by the music.

_One foot in front of the other, babe_

_One breath leads to another_

_Just keep moving_

_Go, go, go_

_Figure it out, figure it out, but don't stop moving_

He liked it like this. Nobody knew that this was his song he pulled himself out of the darkness with. Not even Victor. This was just between him and himself. The one secret means of self-care he allowed himself.

_So my love, keep on running_

_You gotta get through today_

_There my love, keep on running_

_Gotta keep those tears at bay_

_Oh, my love, don't stop burning_

_Gonna send them up in flames_

He wasn’t thinking about Victor, he told himself. Victor, who wasn’t just over at Yuuri’s place for Bollywood night right now like so many Friday nights before but for the first time actually as Yuuri’s boyfriend. Chris wasn’t thinking about how giddy Victor had been at work, about how much he cherished this in his best friend - finding the greatest happiness in something as small as not going home but staying over at Yuuri’s for the first time after Bollywood night. Chris wasn’t thinking about the pain he had felt when he smiled and teased Victor. He wasn’t thinking at all about Victor being happy and at home between Yuuri’s friends right at this very moment. He wasn’t thinking about Victor having fun and being at home among friends who were not him.

_Don't stop, tomorrow's another day_

_Don't stop, tomorrow you'll feel no pain_

_Just keep moving_

_Don't stop the past'll trip you up_

He wasn’t thinking about anyone. Not thinking about anyone was the only way to keep the demons at bay. Chris turned up the speed on the treadmill and the volume on the music and kept on running.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Phichit knew he shouldn’t. He knew he would feel stupid, quite possibly get burnt badly, and Yuuri would rip his head off if he ever told him, but he was a little daring, and a lot compassionate, and he couldn’t stop the kaleidoscope of different Christophes churning in his head ever since the Christmas party and his first visit to his house. He also wanted to see those photographs on the gallery again. Strictly professional interest. So on late Saturday afternoon, after he had helped pick an outfit for Yuuri who was as excited about going out on date with Victor like they didn’t see each other at work all day all week and didn’t practically live together already, Phichit had sent off a text and dropped by the biggest Asian supermarket in the city. The alibi groceries he had bought for Yuuri and Guang Hong were neatly packed in the boot of his car. It wouldn’t look like anything else but him doing their normal Asian grocery shopping.

Except he found himself standing outside Chris’ door loaded with a bag of ingredients for a full Thai meal.

Chris’ eyes widened behind his glasses when he opened the door and barely saw Phichit’s face behind the vegetables sticking out of the paper shopping bag.

“Look,” Phichit started. “I don’t know what I’m doing here either, I just felt like… I just thought… do you like Thai food?”

“Would you like to come in?” Chris opened the door wider and let him pass.

He took the shopping bag from Phichit’s hand unceremoniously and carried it through to the kitchen.

Phichit followed after taking off his shoes and hanging his coat up on the wardrobe.

“I’m sorry for barging in like this,” he started but Chris seemed unbothered.

“You did send a text in advance,“ he said smoothly, his eyes flickering amused.

Relief pooled in Phichit’s stomach like a reaffirmation of the gut feeling that had brought him here.

“For the record…” Chris smiled and pushed up the sleeves of his cream-coloured sweater. “I love Thai food. I suppose you’ll need help?”

Phichit grinned. “This is probably a long shot since you never cook but… are you any good at chopping?”

It worked surprisingly well. Chris just did whatever he gave him to do, listened to his explanations and asked questions. He admitted that the only Thai food he knew was from one of the best restaurants in town.

“They’re good,” Phichit agreed. “Authentic. But nothing compared to my family’s recipes.”

He winked and grabbed the mortar and pestle from the window sill. It was heavy black granite, and he wiped it down with some wet kitchen paper before he put the ingredients for red curry paste in and started crushing garlic and whole spices with the pestle and working them into the lime juice and tomato paste he had put in first.

“Didn’t you want to use my poor neglected kitchen appliances?” Chris asked as he watched him wield the heavy pestle. “I’m sure one of them could do this in no time.”

“Thai curry paste is best prepared by hand.” Phichit looked up. “How are these vegetables coming along?”

Chuckling, Chris went back to his chopping board.

“So… does wine go with Thai food?” he asked a little while later and placed his knife carefully on the board.

Phichit piped up, then realised he’d come by car and grimaced. “I shouldn’t, because I’m driving home later, but you go ahead. Gewürztraminer goes well with the curry, but a sparkling rosé champagne is fantastic with the spring rolls.”

“No problem, I’ll just get both.” Chris was already turning towards the door.

“Don’t open both of them, it’ll go to waste,” Phichit said quickly.

“Oh, it won’t, not when I’m around.”

“Yeah, I’m sure that’s true but it’s really not necessary to open two…”

They both froze at the same moment. Phichit looked up. Chris looked back at him.

“… open two bottles of something,” Phichit finished lamely.

“I…” Chris fell silent. And for one long moment, the implication hung low and heavy over them.

“I’ll pop down to the wine cellar.” Chris gave a little nod and wandered out of the kitchen.

Great, Phichit thought and puffed out his cheeks. Now Chris thought he considered him a depressed alcoholic who spent his Saturdays drinking at home because he had no other friends apart from Victor. He really didn’t need that image on top of all the others already playing in his head. For a moment he asked himself what the hell he was doing here. Then a memory popped up of the first time Yuuri had brought Victor home for Bollywood night and freaked out about it. Bending over the mortar and working the curry paste hard with the pestle, Phichit tried to breathe like he would tell Yuuri to do. He remembered what he had told Yuuri that night. And he remembered why he was here. Because something about this felt right to him. He couldn’t put his finger on it. He just knew that he wouldn’t be here if he didn’t feel, somewhere deep down, that it was a good idea. He thought of both their best friends, out on a date right at his moment and so in love. He knew that it left the same blank space in Chris’ life as it did in his own just now. They both needed a friend. Maybe they both needed this.

And _that_ realisation did exactly nothing to calm him down.

Phichit resorted to the one thing that did. 

Cooking.

He poured his red curry paste into a casserole he had located and added the chicken he had brought. Tossed in some cumin seed and lime leaves, then put the lid on and placed the casserole in the oven he had pre-heated. He proceeded to measure out the rice, first the amount for dessert, then the one for the main course. In between, he kept going back to the pot on the stove in which he was preparing his grandma’s sweet chili sauce, scrunching his nose when the pungent stench of burning vinegar stung just right. He was just done mixing panko, garlic and onion powder with salt and cayenne pepper in a bowl when Chris came back. With just one bottle, Phichit couldn’t help but notice when Chris placed the white wine in the freezer to chill.

When Chris closed the freezer and turned to face him again, Phichit smiled and pointed at the ingredients he had set out on the breakfast counter. He was relieved when Chris smiled back. Clean slate.

“Wash your hands, you’re going to make fresh Thai spring rolls.”

Facing each other with the breakfast counter between them, Phichit showed Chris how to soak a sheet of rice paper in water for a few seconds, then lay it out flat and fill one side with vegetables and herbs before folding the sides over several times until it was a spring roll open at the top.

“Victor would be so good at his,” Chris remarked when he looked at his latest spring roll. Still a little unshapely, but better than the ones before.

“Oh, he _is_ , he—” Phichit cut himself off, his head snapping up from the rice paper in front of him. He could feel the flush of red hot embarrassment. “I’m sorry! I wasn’t thinking!”

“It’s okay,” Chris replied quietly. He concentrated on the next spring roll, looking down so that Phichit couldn’t see his expression. Phichit quietly cursed himself for his mouth forever running away with him.

Leaving the last spring roll to Chris, he started opening kitchen cabinets at random, looking for plates. A lot of them were stacked with what he liked to call fancy food. Expensive brands of crackers and tea and chocolate and chutneys. A carton of dried salami that made Phichit want to crawl inside the compartment and lock himself in because it smelt so tasty. There was a whole compartment full of luxury potato chips, some of which Phichit knew cost a fortune because he had ended up googling the most expensive potato chips in the world with Leo one drunken night. A range of spices that made Phichit want to weep over them being wasted in a kitchen where nobody ever used them.

He had reached the bottom cupboards when he found what he was looking for.

“Now we’re talking.” He looked up and grinned like someone who has hit the jackpot, then pointed at the stylish Villeroy&Boch china he had found. “Serving plates and bowls.”

“You’ve seen what I eat.” Chris chuckled and nodded at the other compartments that held food. “If there’s one thing I know in this kitchen it’s serving plates and bowls for dips.”

“Good.” Phichit nodded. Clean slate. He told Chris what he needed while he grabbed a bowl of his own and started assembling the spring rolls in it, standing upright with the open sides facing up like a bouquet.

Once they were seated at the round table in the jutty looking out at the garden, Phichit gaped for a moment. Fairy lights were strung along the hedges in the garden, all the way down to the trees at the far end, making the view out the windows almost magical.

He was serving the appetisers along with the _panang_ chicken curry, and the table looked good, he had to give Chris that, the wave pattern of the china making every dish look absolutely stylish. Even the small dip bowls he had placed the baked coconut shrimps over on skewers had the elegant signature wave of this particular collection in the handles.

“So are there any special things one should know about table manners?” Chris asked and looked over at Phichit with interest. He had already noted with astonishment that the cutlery Phichit had given him to place on the table was just forks and spoons. No knives.

Phichit couldn’t help feeling a small spark of joy. He always did when he was asked about the customs and traditions of his country. He explained while they were eating, insisting not to let the curry get cold, and his cheeks took on a faint pink when after every answer, Chris had a new question.

“I don’t get drunk by myself.”

The words came so unexpectedly and out of context that Phichit paused his hand with a spring roll halfway to his mouth. _Not always,_ was unspoken, and yet Phichit could hear it loud and clear, see it in Chris’ eyes.

“I didn’t mean to imply that.” He lowered his hand and looked at Chris across the table.

“I don’t need your pity, Phichit.” He said it without malice, just planted the statement there between them, and almost with a smile.

“What _do_ you need?”

Nobody was more surprised about Phichit asking the question than Phichit himself.

After a long moment of staring at his spoon moving around in the curry, Chris sighed. “I need a friend.”

“You _have_ a friend.”

Chris opened his mouth but Phichit held up his hand for attention.

“I’m sorry about what I said before!” He talked too fast, fell over his words. “That was really tactless! You probably don’t want to hear about your best friend hanging out so much with other people instead of with you! And I don’t mean just Yuuri, I mean hanging out with _us_. Yuuri’s friends.”

Phichit winced inwardly, wondering if his words sounded as harsh to Chris as they did to himself. He would have to deal later with the fact how this made him feel unsettled. Almost as if he _cared_.

“Victor is....” Chris started, and muttered, “This is so pathetic.”

He took a deeper breath and tried again. Phichit wished it wouldn’t quite look so much like he was baring his very soul, he wasn’t sure he would be able to handle it.

“Victor is the one constant in my life that was always there. From the moment Yakov and Lilia brought that scrawny boy with his ridiculous heart-shaped smile home with them, he was just there. He knew nothing but Russian at that time and yet he understood me better than anyone ever had. He just... attached himself to me, and I was so glad. We were two scrawny boys who were very alone and found each other.”

Phichit had stopped eating and started plucking at his napkin in his lap. It took him a couple of minutes to realise that this was starched cotton, not one of the cheap paper napkins he could just pick apart. He had always loved the stories from Victor and Sara’s childhood. Until here and now, he hadn’t been aware of just how much he was dying to know more about Chris’ part in them.

“Fucking things up with Victor is the one thing I regret the most, but then that’s what I do best. Fuck things up.” Chris raised his glass in a bitter toast. “My one talent.”

“That’s not true.”

Actually, Phichit had wanted to say: That’s bullshit. But somehow it didn’t feel right. Chris did not feel like the right kind of person he could shake by the shoulders with words like this. He drank a quick gulp of water as if for courage.

“How you handled the fire, just went out there and worked with the people, hands on, unafraid to get your hands dirty. Ruthless with the people who caused it all. That was bloody brilliant. And maybe you fuck up sometimes, but you get up right away and walk on. And you face up to your mistakes. When you apologised to everyone for your behaviour at the Christmas party, that was brave. And gutsy. That is also a talent, you know. Standing up again.”

They locked eyes for a moment, and knew they both remembered the very fleeting moment in Monday’s meeting when this had happened, too, Chris seeking out Phichit’s eyes as if for reassurance.

“That’s quite possibly the one good thing my father hammered home: when you’re down, you get your act together and pick yourself up.”

The choice of words struck Phichit prominently. ‘hammered home’, not taught him. ‘pick yourself up’. In Phichit’s family, when you were down, someone held out their hand and helped you up.

The bitter loneliness that was just on the other side of this table was almost palpable. Phichit felt it tugging on way too many strings.

“How about dessert?” he asked for lack of a better topic. For if there was one thing Phichit knew about sadness, it was that mango sticky rice worked right wonders against it.

“Dessert sounds absolutely fantastic.”

Phichit nodded as he rose from the table. Clean slate.

“This is delicious.” Chris smiled across the table a little while later after the first spoon of rice in sweet coconut sauce. He looked much younger, Phichit though. Always much younger and vulnerable when he was relaxed.

“It’s my father’s favourite,” Phichit smiled back. “He always says my mother captured his heart with this dish.”

“What does Mr Chulanont do?” Chris rose from his seat and leaned over as he topped off their water glasses.

“Mr Chulanont…” Phichit nodded thanks and picked up his glass. “… is in fact _Dr_. Chulanont.”

Back in his chair, Chris raised his eyebrows with interest.

“Yep. My father is one of the leading cardiologists in the country. He married young, a sweet country bumpkin who grew up in poverty but was smart and beautiful and charmed his socks off of him.”

A smile of pure and utter love rose like the sun on Phichit’s face.

“They are still crazy about each other. She lost her father when she was very young, so her mother came to live with them when she married the handsome young doctor-to-be. My grandma, she’s sassy… do you know Golden Girls? The TV show?”

“Of course I do.” Chris chuckled. “Which one is she?”

“Well, she’s not Rose, that’s for sure.” Phichit laughed. “She’s more of a blend of the other three. It was good that my mum had her there though because with my father climbing up the career ladder, despite her being so smart she could have been anything she wanted, she chose to be a housewife and a stay-at-home mum, bringing up his four children.”

“Four!” Chris’ eyes widened with surprise. Something flitted across his face for a moment. Not aversion, Phichit noted, more like… envy?

“Yeah.” Phichit drank a sip from his glass. “Dr. Chulanont was very keen on his children following in his footsteps. His eldest daughter did, she’s a cardiologist, too. His younger son is also a swot and currently studying medicine. His younger daughter is still in school, she wants to be a computer game designer. She has a crush on all my friends, it’s quite funny when we Skype actually while the guys are around, because she barely speaks and blushes a lot. And his older son… the one who never wanted to study medicine and was interested in fashion and music, interior design and photography instead, the one who started plucking his eyebrows and stealing his mum’s facial products when he was twelve… is me.”

Chris held his gaze for a long time.

“They sound absolutely wonderful,” he finally said and picked up his glass to drink.

“They are,” Phichit grinned. “Especially when you live thousands of kilometres away.”

They laughed.

“I just wanted to spread my wings,” Phichit mused. “I always wanted to see the world. Travel. Take photos.”

“You do photo assignments after work,” Chris said. It didn’t sound like a question. Sara probably told him, Phichit thought. He picked up his spoon again and continued eating, forgetting all about time again as he launched into his favourite topic.

Later, when the dishes were done and Phichit stood by the door again in his shoes and coat and Chris had thanked him profusely for dinner, Chris asked again, one hand already on the door handle.

“So about that dinner I owe you for driving me home…”

“Okay,” Phichit said.

“Okay?” Chris cocked one eyebrow.

It was just the spices and the bloody underfloor heating and the fact that he was already wearing his coat, Phichit reasoned, that made him feel so hot just now.

“I’ll let you know when.”

Chris nodded and opened the door for him.

For a long moment they looked at each other, until they both started to smile.

“Goodnight, Christophe.” That sounded pompous, Phichit thought as he stepped outside.

“Goodnight, Phichit.” The corners of Chris’ mouth twitched with amusement. “Thank you so much.”

He didn’t say what for, Phichit thought as he unlocked his car and got inside, and part of him wondered if Chris simply meant for everything. He was well aware of the fact that Chris didn’t close the door until he knew for sure that Phichit was in the car and pulling out of the driveway.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

**Christophe Giacometti**

**_online_ **

_you forgot your chili sauce in my kitchen_

**Phichit Chulanont**

**_online_ **

_keep it_

_you can dip some of your fancy gourmet potato chips in it_

**Christophe Giacometti**

**_online_ **

_or… just perhaps! … save it for next time?_

**Phichit Chulanont**

**_online_ **

_or save it for next time._

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“And you’re absolutely sure you don’t mind?”

Phichit looked up from the email he was just frowning at on his phone screen to find himself face to face with the concerned deep brown eyes of his best friend.

“Yuuri!” Phichit started laughing. “If _I_ had found the love of my life and _you_ would mind my spending time with them instead of with you, I would be so pissed off with you. Of course I don’t mind.”

He leaned over in his seat to give Yuuri a reassuring rub on his upper arm. They were sitting at Yuuri’s kitchen table, half empty coffee cups in front of them, using the opportunity to catch up on one of the rare occasions when they had finished work at the same time and came home together. Phichit slipped his phone into his back pocket and moved his chair a little closer to Yuuri’s side.

“I don’t want you to feel left out, Peach. We haven’t hung out forever, just the two of us. I already feel bad you had to do my Japanese shopping on Saturday.” Yuuri was leaning in as well, as if for emphasis.

“Yuuri.” Phichit shook his head. “You made a bento for me, too, with the stuff I got you, we’re even.”

“You have a photo assignment tonight anyway…” Yuuri started chewing on his bottom lip.

Phichit kept on smiling. He thought of the email he had just glanced at, thought of Yuuri’s face when he had come downstair to the newsroom earlier, ears and cheeks glowing red with excitement when he told him about the reservation Victor had for a special pre-Christmas dinner show Yuuri had been dying to attend forever. It was always booked up months in advance no matter how early Yuuri called. But Victor had bagged two seats thanks to one of their business partners. Phichit knew that if he told Yuuri his photo assignment was called off he would seriously consider cancelling on Victor to hang out with him instead, and Phichit couldn’t have that.

“We can always hang out tomorrow,” he said diplomatically.

“Okay.” Yuuri’s eyes sparkled behind his glasses. “Victor wants to see Chris anyway to play pool or something. Do you think you could make mango sticky rice? We haven’t had that forever.”

Phichit thought about sharing mango sticky rice only two nights ago, green eyes closing momentarily in bliss because it tasted so good. Irritated, he shook his head to get rid of the memory and grinned at Yuuri.

“Of course!” He downed the rest of his coffee and leaned a little closer. “So what are you going to wear tonight?”

Yuuri groaned. “I was hoping you could help me with that.”

“So _that’s_ why you invited me in for coffee.” Phichit jumped up and dodged a playful slap from Yuuri. “Let’s raid your closet, Katsuki.” Laughing, they both headed for Yuuri’s bedroom.

Two hours later, Phichit was lying on his couch, listlessly scrolling through his Instagram. Leo and Guang Hong laughing at their dancing class. Victor had posted a picture of a gorgeous dinner table with breathtaking decorations in the backgrounds and several hearts in his very smitten caption. Phichit had to laugh; he could just imagine how Victor would have wanted to post a picture of Yuuri and Yuuri had resisted. His brother had shared a snapshot of the rows in an auditorium of his evening lecture, which made Phichit snort. His younger sister at karaoke with her friends and their grandma. His father presenting some certificate to a younger colleague. Phichit shifted on the couch. His father, he thought, who had never insulted him for his sexual orientation.

Phichit sighed. His stomach rumbled, not for the first time, but he hadn’t found the energy yet to get up and fix himself some dinner. Worrying his bottom lip between his teeth, he tried in vain to stop his mind from wandering. He was just having a lull, he told himself. He had every right, being the odd one out while all around him people were happy couples and friends and families. But he hated this strange pulling feeling deep inside that always brought his thoughts back to the same place. He hated how much he wanted to talk about things again for hours without conversation running dry. He hated how he felt so sure he was bringing some light and laughter into this huge lonely house. Most of all he hated how much he wanted to hear this warm, deep chuckle again.

His thumb hovered for a moment over the name underneath Victor’s photo, the first person who had liked it. Then he tapped, and a new profile loaded.

The most recent upload was a picture of a white cat lying across toned thighs, a hand buried in her thick fur.

_Monday night audience with the queen._ Was the caption. Posted roughly ten minutes ago.

Phichit exhaled audibly. There was that strange pulling feeling again, only stronger now when he thought about the house he knew was lurking beautifully lonely just right outside every edge of the picture.

He hesitated, then opened a new text message and started typing, just one word.

_Dinner?_

“Yuuri’s going to kill me…” Phichit said to his empty living room half an hour later when he got up from the sofa, slipped into his coat and shoes, and headed out.

This is the last time, Phichit thought as he rang the bell and the door swung open. This was strictly because he was having a bad Monday. As soon as this thank you dinner was out of the way all debts were settled and he wouldn’t ever come back to Chris’ house again. Definitely the last time, he reminded himself as he followed Chris into the kitchen. And he did _not_ notice that the black jeans fit Chris’ bum as snugly as they had looked on his thighs in his Instagram post.

Rani was asleep in one corner of the couch nearest the window, on a pale pink cushion that looked fit for a feline queen. Passing the table laid in the jutty looking out into the garden, Phichit actually laughed. The man had no food to cook in his house but laid the table for take-out pizza like for a dinner fit for royalty.

In the kitchen, he saw Chris was about to arrange the food on serving plates and reached for one to help.

“Celestino’s?” he asked when he saw the writing on the pizza cartons. “That’s quick for going there, waiting and driving home.”

Chris chuckled. Phichit concentrated on sliding pizza from the carton onto a plate.

“I never wait there. I call in advance and just collect the food when it’s ready.”

“Yuuri told me they do that for Victor.” Phichit looked up again. “I shouldn’t be surprised the same goes for you. Do you also get complimentary stuff every time?”

Chris grinned and held out another pizza carton to him. Curious, Phichit took it and peeped inside.

“Bruschetta!” he exclaimed, instantly excited. “They say it’s the best bruschetta in the city! Nearly every time we go there they’re out. Drives Yuuri crazy, he loves this.”

Chris laughed as he poured red wine into a decanter. “That’s because it’s the best in the city and no matter how much dough Ciao Ciao makes, they always run out really fast. Get Victor to call them next time, they will make some especially.”

Yuuri is _definitely_ going to kill me, Phichit thought as he carried the bruschetta out to the table and the mouthwatering aroma of garlic and balsamic vinegar almost made him drool with anticipation.

They fell into conversation much too easily. About work, and the child’s drawing Phichit had spotted on the fridge that hadn’t been there two days ago. He smiled when Chris told him it came with a letter from the little girl he had met on their burnt down hazelnut fields in Turkey.

“You put it up on your fridge,” Phichit said, ignoring a spike of… something, deep down inside.

“I had to send Yuuri out for some of those magnets,” Chris admitted with a sheepish smile.

“What was it like?” Phichit asked, quietly. “In Turkey. After the fire.”

Phichit nipped on his wine and made sure to water down right away, thinking of his car outside in the driveway. Listening to Chris talking was pleasant, but then he knew that from countless meetings at work. Chris gave off a radiant energy when he spoke about something that mattered to him. He had exactly that kind of powerful charm that Phichit knew had drawn himself and Yuuri and so many others to work for his company. They moved on from the aftermath of the fire to some new PR ideas Phichit knew Sara was toying with. To the Christmas business and from there to Christmas markets and Christmas plans. Phichit was still thinking about how to steer the conversation away from the sore topic of their Christmas party or family when Chris changed the topic himself.

“I was surprised you came back,” he admitted as he put his cutlery down and picked up his glass instead.

“To be honest, so was I.” Phichit looked at the last slice of pizza on his plate. “But my photo assignment was cancelled because there’s no snow, and you probably know Victor got those dinner show seats. And I guess… I had fun? Talking to you?”

Chris watched him over the brim of his wine glass. “I had fun, too,” he said at last.

“And I was feeling a little Monday blues when I texted you, I was looking at all these pictures of what my friends and family were doing and…” Phichit paused and took a deep breath when he realised he was about to start rambling. “I didn’t have the heart to tell Yuuri about my assignment being called off, I didn’t want him to feel obligated to cancel on Victor. Which he would have done. He sent me two messages since he left asking if I’m really okay. I don’t want him to feel guilty for spending so much time with Victor at the moment and us not getting to hang out much.”

“Do you mind?” Chris tilted his head in question.

“No. I was rooting for this to happen for so long. I love seeing him happy.” Phichit cut his remaining pizza into two bite-sized pieces and pierced one of them with his fork. “Don’t you feel the same about Victor?”

The piece of pizza disappeared in his mouth.

“Of course I do. This is going to sound a little weird now…” Chris looked thoughtfully across the table. “But Victor is the most important person in my life. I’m more than happy for him. I know I sound like an ungrateful bastard after everything my parents gave me, but it’s actually Victor I care about the most. And Sara and Mickey. Their parents, too, because they have given me more love than my own ever have. Hell, even Yakov and Lilia have made me feel more cherished than my own parents. They may seem gruff and serious, but they’ve done right by Victor. And I want Victor to have all the good things in this world. Of course I was always hoping to get on much better with the person my best friend falls in love with, but…” He sighed. “It’s my own fault, I’m well aware of that. I fucked that up.”

“Yuuri is…” Phichit paused. He drank a sip of wine like he needed time to think how to carefully phrase his next words. “He’s the most stubborn person I know. And he really, really cares about Victor. The worst thing for him is Victor getting hurt or feeling lonely, or sad. You hurt Victor. If he hadn’t overheard all those things you said in the bathroom, he would still be pissed off with you but not as much as he is now.”

Chris nodded. Phichit watched him look down into his wine glass as if he was expecting to find answers there. Their eyes met when Chris looked up again.

“My parents…” His voice sounded hoarse, and he cleared his throat. “They were not exactly a good example for a loving relationship. I guess it’s very hard to do something right when nobody ever shows you how it’s done. I would feel so happy when I came home from Victor’s, or Mickey and Sara’s. So full of joy and love. But the moment the door closed, the silence of our home became so loud again, and all the good things and feelings I was bringing home with me were instantly smothered. Ever since you told me about your family I had been thinking back about my life and my father and…” He shook his head, tried to shake off the negativity, the pain.

“You’re very lucky, Phichit,” he finally said and gave him a look that made Phichit feel pinned to his seat.

“I know.” Phichit’s voice sounded strange to himself. He couldn’t take his eyes off of Chris’ face.

Chris averted his eyes first.

“I’ve known since my teenage days that I’m gay. It never stopped my parents from introducing me to girls. Fully expecting me to pick someone to marry. Settle down. Provide _heirs_.” He spat out the word like something disgusting. “It’s like they never saw _me_ , only the heir they expected me to be.”

Phichit wanted to say something, but for the first time ever he didn’t find any words. He had a very vivid imagination, but the idea that his parents could have tried to force life choices on him was too big for him to grasp. They hadn’t been enthusiastic about him wanting to live abroad, but they had let him go his own way.

He watched Chris drink another sip of wine. And listened. One couldn’t not listen to this voice.

“I guess trying to do the exact opposite of what my parents wanted became a challenge to me. So I wasted my time on people like… well, you know. The whole company knows. I should have realised that it wasn’t going anywhere a long time ago, but I think I simply refused to see. He wasn’t the first guy who was more interested in my name and my bank account than anything else. And I kind of guessed he wasn’t serious, I mean… he never wanted to come here with me. Meet my friends. See my real life. He never took the slightest interest in what I do.”

“Sara and Victor would have torn him to pieces within five minutes if he’d met your friends,” Phichit blurted out. “And I know it’s probably not my place to say this but I think you should consider yourself lucky that he never came here and saw this.”

He gestured around them, indicating the house.

“He would never have left, but he wouldn’t have stayed for _you_ but for all the wrong reasons. And nobody deserves this.”

Silence prevailed for long minutes, the weight of their words more pressing than the Italian food in their stomachs or the strong red wine. At long last Chris shook his head again. Another attempt at shaking off the heaviness. Phichit registered with unease that he noticed, and _knew_. A smile pursed Chris’ lips, and he blinked behind his glasses. When he looked at Phichit again, he seemed changed. Back to where they had been before he started talking about his parents.

“How about you?” he asked. “Are you seeing anyone? Boyfriend? Girlfriend?”

Phichit looked across the table for a long moment, met Chris’ calm, curious gaze.

“No.” Phichit took a sip from his glass of wine. He twisted the stem between his fingers, looking at the light playing with the deep red liquid sloshing around in the glass.

“I’ve been crushing quite hard on someone for months but…” He shrugged. “It’s complicated. They don’t know.”

“They’re unavailable?” Chris asked, empathy swinging in his voice.

“No. Just… not the kind of person who’d you proudly announce your love for to the world.”

Chris made a low humming sound of understanding.

“Is it someone from work?” He winked at Phichit across the table. “I won’t tell, I promise. Your secret’s safe with me.”

Phichit took another sip of wine before he put his glass back down on the table. He looked at the pizza crumbs on his plate for a moment before he raised his head and looked straight at Chris.

“It’s you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fear not - Phichit will have some answers for us next week! :)


	3. Someone Like You and All You Know and How You Speak

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Barging in late and hopefully with not too many typos or overlooked incoherence. First things first: please be assured that I have seen and cherish and am going to reply to every single comment you were so kind to leave me! Thank you all so very much for being here for this story. 💖💖💖 I've had a hellish week at work which cost me so much time and nerves and energy I would rather have invested in this story and in replying to comments instead. But I didn't want to let Friday night pass without giving you a new chapter.
> 
> It's bringing one of 10 Things' greatest assets back - friendship. 
> 
> I hope you like. xxx

**3 - Someone Like You and All You Know and How You Speak**

“Oh god… oh GOD! … Stupid! I’m so stupid!”

Phichit beat one hand on his steering wheel before he pulled into the lane that led back into town. He took a couple of deep breaths, but they sounded more like huffing, and his heart was hammering against his ribcage like a rabid animal wanting to break free.

“Well done! Fucking idiot, why did I tell him???!!!” he went on rambling to himself. And wow, did he hate when he heard his own voice sound so whiney. As he came closer to the city centre he slowed down even more and put all his focus on traffic. Police liked to stop cars at random in the weeks before Christmas, in the evenings when the Christmas markets closed. Phichit knew he was safe to drive but he still had no interest in ending this already fucked up evening being stopped and checked for inebriety by the police.

At home he parked his car in his reserved space outside their house and jogged up the stairs instead of taking the lift, thinking that moving might take a bit of the edge off his nerves, but by the time he unlocked his door his hand was shaking and he felt as impatient as Vicchan and Shi looked when they were desperate to go outside.

He slammed the door to his apartment shut. While he still yanked off his coat and shoes, his phone beeped and vibrated again in his back pocket. He had stopped counting at some point while driving. He hadn’t taken it out to check either, scared of what he would find. His friends would probably not have recognised him without his phone in his hand and being such a baby about this.

His sofa still bore the slight indent of where he’d sat before. _Before_. Phichit uttered a short huff of a laugh and threw himself down in the same corner, knees pulled towards himself as he wrestled his phone from his back pocket and winced at the screen.

Two missed calls. Five text messages.

All Chris.

“Crap…” Phichit took a deep, panicked breath. “I can’t talk to you, I’ve put my foot in enough!”

He sounded hysterical, even to himself. Unlocking his phone screen to distract himself, he closed the notifications as if that could make the calls and messages cease to exist. His knees moved a little impatiently, and he tried to keep still, but he felt agitated. Hyper. He needed to talk to someone, or he would go mad.

For a moment he contemplated walking down the hall and knocking on Guang Hong and Leo’s door. But he could see the shock and disdain on their faces already, and it made his heart sink even lower than it already had. Yuuri was out of the question. Even if he had been home, just thinking of the disappointment and the disbelief on his best friend’s face was more than Phichit could even bear to think about. A weird sound came from his nose. It made him knit his eyebrows close together and blink several times against the sting in his eyes.

Going through his contacts he saw a message from home, sent an hour ago.

Phichit bit his lips, pensive. It was just past eight o’clock. At home it would be 1 AM, yet the “last seen” right under the name at the top said just a few minutes ago. He could picture his father, at his desk in his office at home, most likely reading up on the latest scientific findings in his field because there was never time for this in the day when he was in the clinic. Working on a paper of his own, quite possibly, at this time of night. And suddenly Phichit felt homesick, for the bright light of the desk lamp in his father’s office and the still of the night outside the window. He felt regret over the fact that he was finally old enough to accept the glass of whiskey his father liked to serve to his guests, yet here he was at the other end of the world.

His finger was on his contacts and dialling before Phichit could think about it.

“Phichit?” The sound instantly felt like a comforting arm placed around his shoulder. “Is everything okay?”

“Hi dad.” Phichit exhaled audibly and slid a little lower on the couch. “I’m sorry I’m calling you so late but I really need to talk to someone before I burst.”

“What happened?”

Phichit shifted into a more comfortable position. There was that weird sound from his nose again, and the sting was back in his eyes. He wiped at one eye with the heel of his hand. It came away wet.

“I…” Phichit took a deep breath. “There’s this guy…”

“Oh. I’m sorry.” His father sounded curt. It instantly got Phichit’s hackles up.

“I see.” Phichit knew he sounded salty, but he couldn’t stop himself. “When I told you that there’s a high possibility that I’ll be falling in love with boys rather than girls, you hesitated but then you said it’s fine with you. Now that it’s actually happening for real, you don’t sound so fine about it anymore at all.”

“Phichit,” his father said patiently and took a deep breath. “I did not mean I’m sorry you’re gay but I’m sorry this guy is quite obviously an idiot or otherwise you wouldn’t be calling me in the middle of the night, crying.”

“I’m not crying!” Phichit wiped at his eyes with his sleeve.

He could see his father in his mind, how he would be raising his eyebrows meaningfully now. It seemed somewhat familiar, and… oh God, Phichit thought. I got this from my dad!

“Okay, let’s pretend you’re not upset then.”

Phichit held the phone away from his face for a moment and stared at it. He couldn’t believe his father!

“… about this guy?” he still caught him saying when he brought the phone back to his ear.

“We’re not dating or anything,” Phichit hurried to say. “And it’s really, _really_ complicated. A total mess. And you’re right, he’s an absolute idiot and I should never have gone back to his house to have stupid dinner with him, even though it’s the best fucking pizza and bruschetta in the city and was really soooo good! And I thought we were on a good way to become friends, maybe, but then I had to go and screw up because I couldn’t keep my mouth shut!”

“What did you say?” his father asked with the long lasting calm and experience of someone who was used to letting an over-excited Phichit ramble on until he paused long enough for someone else to get a word of reason in.

“I told him I’ve been crushing on him for months!” Phichit almost yelled.

“And… that is bad, because…?”

“He was not meant to know! Nobody was ever meant to know!”

“I’m afraid I will need more information than this. What does Yuuri say?”

Damn, Phichit thought. He had hoped to get around this somehow. While he was still frantically trying to think of something to say, his father went on.

“Phichit... not that I don’t appreciate you confiding in me, I really do. But I’m also a little surprised? Usually you would talk about these things to Yuuri?”

When it became clear to Phichit that an answer was expected of him, he squeezed his eyes shut and broke his own speed record at talking too fast.

“Yuuridoesntknow.”

Silence prevailed. Phichit opened his eyes very slowly, one after the other.

“I’m beginning to see the appeal of your brother choosing ENT over cardiology, I should get him to check my hearing occasionally. For a moment I thought you said Yuuri doesn’t know.”

Phichit groaned. He grabbed one of his sofa cushions and clutched it tight, while his feet started pounding an impatient rhythm on the couch. He didn’t want to talk about this, he really didn’t. And he had to talk about this so, so much.

“I meant it,” he admitted, almost shyly. “Yuuri doesn’t know.”

Silence again. And then his father lost it for a moment.

“What! _Yuuri_ knows things that have been happening inside your pants that your mother and I know nothing about since you were five, and you’re trying to tell me that you have a crush on someone and _Yuuri doesn’t know???!!!“_

“ _Phorh_ …” Phichit breathed a sigh. “I told you it’s a mess!”

“I’m not angry, I’m just… flabbergasted. How come you haven’t told Yuuri?”

“Because Yuuri can’t stand him!” Phichit knew he was bordering on the hysterical again but this was the part that caused him the most stomach aches and now that he had pulled off one corner of the band-aid he wanted to yank it off, quick and painless.

“The guy is an asshole, he’s said and done some really terrible things, and Yuuri works close together with him every day, he knows it all! I didn’t want to look like an idiot and make a complete fool of myself admitting that I fell for that guy! Of all people! _And_ he had a lover, even thought that was some godawful waste of space, but he might also be fucking the concierge of the hotel in Milan where he stays on business trips, and god knows how many beds he’s hopping through besides that! And he’s arrogant and full of himself, and on top of all that, he’s my _boss_!”

“Your boss? Wait! Is that why you cannot tell Yuuri?”

“Huh?” Phichit frowned, then realisation dawned on his face and he hurried to add, “What? You think I mean Victor? Hell, no!” Phichit cleared his throat because suddenly he felt very, very nervous as the full impact of the whole mess he found himself in caught up with him.

“Not Victor,” he said quietly, “the other one.”

“Oh. _Oh!_ That one!” And then there was silence.

Phichit regretted having ever gotten his family so involved in every part of his life. They knew all the gossip from work, they knew all the stories, they knew his best friends and treated them with the same affection and kindness and curiosity as if they were family. And of course. Of bloody course, they knew all about the bet Victor had had running with Chris and how it had hurt Yuuri, and they had raged with Phichit about Chris a lot of times, although they were very glad and happy for Yuuri, now that it had all worked out for him.

“So how could I tell Yuuri?” Phichit asked into the silence. “How could I possibly tell Yuuri that the very guy we‘ve been bitching about all this time because he’s being an asshole right under Yuuri‘s nose… Victor’s best friend who very nearly fucked up Victor’s chances for a relationship with Yuuri even though a blind man can see how much they’re in love with each other… how can I ever tell Yuuri I have a crush on _that_ guy???”

He heard his own heavy panting and tried to calm his breath, but every second that his father did not speak felt like a minute felt like an hour felt like an eternity.

“So if you’ve been keeping up pretences all this time and kept your feelings a secret and felt he was not worth it anyway…” his father said at last. "What changed?”

Phichit crinkled his brow in thought. “The Christmas party.”

“The Christmas party?” The confusion was palpable all the way across the aether from Bangkok.

“But wasn’t the Christmas party where you said…”

“He got really pissed and toxic towards Victor and Yuuri overheard it all, yes,” Phichit said. “But I didn’t tell you that he hit on me too.” And then told his father what he had told nobody before. The story Sara knew the beginning of, and he knew Victor knew the end but he didn’t know it had been him, Phichit, taking care of Chris at his lowest low.

“You raised me to help when someone needs help,” Phichit stated, and it sounded weak.

“But that’s not all, is it?” his father asked gently.

“No.” Suddenly Phichit’s voice shook. “What Sara told me… trying to coax me into driving him home… it touched something in me. I didn’t want it to. I had too many puzzle pieces of him in my mind already, I didn’t need any more. Especially not those that didn’t seem to fit anywhere. I didn’t want to hear that he was lonely, and troubled. I didn’t want to hear him crying in the car, or saying that thing about at least his cat being happy to see him. His cat! It did something to me. I didn’t want him to be alone. I didn’t want to have him around me either, but I didn’t want him to be alone. More alone than he already was, I mean.”

He remembered something. Something that had made him turn his back on Sara because he hadn’t wanted her to see how it shocked and hurt and disgusted him. How it made him angry.

“You know…” Phichit took a deep, frustrated breath. “I think I know why I wanted to talk to _you._ ”

“Why?”

“Sara told me something.” Phichit felt his face contort with emotion. The thought of having to say it filled him with dread. “She told me… earlier that day… his father called him a faggot. And from what I gather it wasn’t the first time.”

“That’s unacceptable.” Phichit felt the genuine compassion and closed his eyes for a moment.

“You never called me names.”

“Of course not! No father should ever call his child that! It makes me angry just to think about it!”

“Dad…”

“Yes?”

“Thank you for never calling me names.”

There was a moment, a quiet moment, and Phichit knew they were both smiling down the phone now.

“It changed something for me,” Phichit admitted. “Hearing him crying like someone was ripping his heart out if his chest in the back of the car, it… hurt. His pain was so raw. I wanted to _do_ something.”

“Nothing makes you feel as helpless and depressed as having to stand by and watch a person you care about despair of themselves. But Phichit? Tell me why you were at his house tonight?”

Phichit put the phone on speaker as he got up and walked over to the kitchen to make himself a cup of tea while he was talking. He was back on the couch by the time he came round to this evening and his mouth running away with him first before he himself ran, too.

“I thought we might be friends,” Phichit said. He repressed a frustrated breath. “I enjoyed talking to him so much. I felt that it was something that was doing both of us good. _Why_ did I tell him, dad?? Why did I have say it out loud?? To his face???”

“Because you always talk first and then get scared of your own courage.” Phichit had left his phone on speaker and could almost hear the smile in his father’s voice as it filled his living room like his father’s presence tended to do. “And you’ve been like this since the day that you began to talk.”

Phichit couldn’t help it, he blushed.

There was silence again, very low static crackling, and Phichit imagined sitting in the armchair in his father’s office instead, being able to see his face while the clock ticked away comfortingly on the wall. He could hear it, faintly, through the speaker he had his father’s call on.

“Well…” his father’s voice came again after a resigned breath. “He must have a good core.”

Phichit slid down a little and twisted his head around in the sofa corner until he found the most comfortable position. “What makes you think so?”

“The fact that I didn’t raise an idiot makes me think so! If he didn’t have any good in him my son would not have fallen in love with him.”

“ _Phorh_ …” It came out quiet, and almost a little embarrassed, and a lot affectionate.

Phichit could hear the low clunk of a heavy glass being put down on a wooden surface. The chug of liquid being poured. The warm comfort of his father’s voice.

“So tell me more about him. He’s handsome, that much I know.”

“How do you know?” Phichit covered his face with one hand for a moment.

“You’ve always liked pretty and shiny things, Phichit. He must be handsome if you fell for him.”

“I…” He started, but at the other end of the line he could already hear soft typing.

“Okay. He’s _very_ handsome.”

“Are you on our company’s website?” Phichit gasped.

“Just making sure I’ve got all my facts right.”

Phichit had to smile at that. “He buys milk in bottles,” he said as a memory flitted across his mind. “Not cartons. Bottles! I mean… he showed time and again at work that he’s really conscious of the environment, avoids flying whenever possible, wants to move production away from palm oil, insisted there were proper plates and cutlery at the summer party, not the plastic stuff you throw away. But to think that he takes the trouble to buy milk in glass bottles, organic, from a local farmer, and washes the bottles and takes them back… what?”

He sat up straighter when he heard his father chuckling.

“Nothing. I just feel proud of the fact that this is something my son would find attractive in another person. Seems like I’ve done something right raising you.”

“Dad.”

“Yes?”

“Please do me and favour and don’t google him.”

“Too late.”

“Fuck, no!” Phichit shot up into a sitting position.

“Language, Phichit!”

“Sorry!”

“Seems like he’s a bit of a favourite with the yellow press over there.But then again, rich company heir… he would be. Is that the lover?”

“He’s not his lover anymore!” Phichit hastened to say. “The waste of space dumped him, took off with his credit card!”

“Charming.”

“He only ever wanted his money anyway. Everyone knows that whenever he went to see him in Paris he made sure to be taken out to the best restaurants and get him to buy him expensive presents. He never cared about him, he just wanted to bleed him dry.”

His father didn’t let any time pass after Phichit’s passionate little speech. “What do _you_ want?”

“I…” He slid down on the couch once more, feeling like a balloon someone had poked with a needle.

“I want to know him.” He frowned a moment, but the words were there, so clearly, right under his surface like they had just been waiting for him to speak them. “The way he is. Victor and Sara aren’t idiots, I want to see what they see. Okay, they grew up together, but I want to see him the way they do and get to know the real him. I want to see beyond all the shitty things Yuuri and I talk about all the time. All the shitty things I’ve seen him do and heard him say.”

He heard his father inhale and exhale, slowly, deeply. He could even see him smile complacently in his mind.

“He opened up to you already.”

“Yeah, and it did things to me!”

“So many things that you don’t want to know more?”

The gentle yet determined coaxing made Phichit rub his eyes. “No,” he finally said. “Quite the opposite. Oh god! This is mess! This is a total mess.”

“Then let’s untangle it.”

Phichit’s phone vibrated in his hand with an incoming text and he jumped a little.

“Oh my god! It’s him!” His voice slipped up higher on the last word.

“Well, I’m glad it’s him. I would hate my son falling for someone who remains silent after a confession like this.”

Phichit read the text. “He asks to at least let him know if I got home alright!”

“Considerate. I like that.”

“He probably just doesn’t want to deal with the mess of my having had an accident on the way home.”

“Phichit!”

“Okay, okay, sorry.” Phichit went to the next message. “He wants to talk.”

“Good. You need to.”

“Noooo! Not good! What am I going to say?”

“How about you listen to what he has to say?”

“I already know what he’s going to say! He’ll say he’s really sorry but he doesn’t feel the same way about me and under these circumstances it’s probably best if we don’t even attempt to be just friends.”

“So what’s your plan B if he tells you he likes you, too?”

“He won’t. It’s ridiculous.”

“Why?” His father’s challenging tone reminded Phichit so much of his own when he asked his friends this very question in a sticky situation when he knew they couldn’t provide a reason for their own silly behaviour, it was more than a little unsettling.

“He cannot possibly like me, that’s… crazy!”

“But what if he does?”

Phichit closed his mouth. He had no answer. Just a thousand fears and insecurities, and twice as many hopes and dreams. He watched his fingers moved on the keys as if they didn’t belong to him.

“Phichit…”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t you think Yuuri, Leo and Guang Hong are suspecting something?”

“No, I‘ve been really careful!”

For a moment there was silence at the other end of the line. Then his father started to laugh. Out loud.

“I’m sorry,” he gasped eventually. “But this is better than any movie I’ve seen recently. I might have to remedy the statement that I didn’t raise an idiot.”

“Nice!” Phichit said pointedly. “It’s late there. You are probably just tired and getting overemotional from lack of sleep, _father_.” He knew he was blushing, and flustered, and he hated it.

“I probably am,” his father replied cheerfully. “And I really should go to sleep, or your mother will stand in the door any minute and scold me for staying up too late.”

There was a pause. Then, “Thank you for confiding in me. I hope you’ll do it again.”

“I will.” It’s not like I can confide in anyone else, Phichit thought.

“And Phichit?”

“Yeah?”

“Text him back. At least tell him you’re home safe so he won’t have to worry about that.”

Phichit exhaled audibly. A smile tugged on the corners of his mouth. “I already did.”

“Good. I didn’t raise an idiot after all.” The smile was audible.

“Goodnight, _Phor_. And thank you.” Suddenly Phichit wished he was there and able to give him a hug.

“Anytime.” He could hear the same wish in his father’s voice. “Goodnight, Phichit.”

Phichit lay in bed with his fancy new noise-cancelling headphones that were a gift from a very flustered Yuuri who had handed them over with such glowing cheeks and stumbling over his words that Phichit had just given him a big hug and hid his shit-eating grin against Yuuri’s shoulder.

He was looking at a new message that had come in, a reply to his.

_I’m glad you’re home._

Phichit typed several new messages and deleted every single one.

_I’m sorry I ran away like that_

_I’m sorry I said that_

_Thank you for dinner_

In the end he stared at the words _I need a moment to think._ for the longest time before he finally sent them.

The reply was prompt.

_You have it._

Phichit contemplated sending a simple _Goodnight_ for the longest time. When he finally did, he was so nervous that he turned off the sound and vibration on his phone and placed it well out of sight before he turned his back on his nightstand and closed his eyes. He couldn’t sleep, but the music caught him and held him in a safe embrace that he could relax in.

The next morning he reached for his phone and his eyebrows shot up when he saw his messages.

No _Goodnight_ in reply to his.

But a simple, sending-his-heartrate-skyrocketing _Good morning._

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Chris opened the door and broke into a tentative smile. He was met with an equally guarded smile as he moved back and opened the door wider.

“I’m glad you could make it.”

“Is this how formal we’re going to be now?”

Victor came in and closed the door behind himself. He was at home here, and yet he stood with his back against the door like trying to cling to a way out.

“You tell me.”

Victor rolled his eyes. “Chris.”

“Victor.” Dark eyebrows climbed even higher above the round frames of glasses.

“Don’t stand there like a kicked puppy.” Victor sighed and moved in for a hug, muttering a moved “Come here!” as he reached for Chris with both arms while he was still in his coat.

They held on to each other for a long moment, gripping tight where words did not exist because there were no words dark enough to describe the hole Chris had torn into a lifetime spent as close as brothers. Long enough to let some of the shattered pieces between them follow their own magnetic pull and join back together, reassembling a fraction of a lifelong bond.

“I’m so sorry,” Chris mumbled, barely audible because he had his face buried so deep in the wool of Victor’s coat. It didn’t matter. He knew Victor would have heard him without words.

“I know.” Victor’s voice was just as muffled somewhere against the thick polo neck of Chris’ grey Aran jumper. When he raised his head, his eyes were dancing. “Wow, I’ve missed your very subtle stench of sheep in this jumper.”

He laughed when Chris gave him a friendly thump against the arm with one fist and started unbuttoning his coat. Chris seemed relieved. There was still a wariness between them, hovering and stalling like an unknown presence that left dirty imprints wherever it touched. And yet, they were both glad to be here.

“So, are we playing pool or not?” Chris asked as they made their way through the living room into the kitchen.

“Or not,” Victor replied over his shoulder.

He headed straight for one of the kitchen cabinets and took out an assortment of expensive Italian crostini. Chris nodded, a smirk pursing his mouth, as he bent down and opened the cupboard that held the serving plates. Victor had moved on to another compartment and slowed down for a moment to take a long, appreciating whiff of the delectable aroma of dried, smoked salami. He rummaged around the box within and took out two, which he held up for Chris.

“Wild boar, or lamb to match your jumper?”

“Both. Let’s go wild and crazy, _mon cher_.”

The familiar endearment had them pausing briefly, then Victor’s smile widened. It felt like another hurdle between them was crossed. They worked side by side with blind ease, a well-oiled machine in their private lives as well as in the office. Chris reached for the pack of crostini that sat on the breakfast counter, opened it and began setting them out on a large serving plate while the space beside it began to fill with more and more things Victor got from Chris’ cupboards and the fridge and added to the spread. Once he had set out enough he grabbed a knife and a chopping board and started to cut thinnest slices off the salami, which Chris arranged on the plate with the cheese, olives, and grilled antipasti.

Chris was carrying a champagne cooler with water bottles in it out to the living room when Victor spotted the glass of chili sauce on the counter. He frowned briefly, then unscrewed the lid and grabbed a small spoon from a drawer to dip inside the glass for a taste. Sweet chili sauce. And somehow he thought it tasted familiar. His brows were still knit together when Chris came back in. He paused briefly when he saw Victor with the glass.

“You might want a small bowl for that if you want to use it as a dip,” Chris said smoothly and dove down to retrieve some from the china cabinet.

“Perfect!” Victor beamed at him and filled some of the chili sauce in the dish he took from Chris.

Fig mustard went in another one, red onion marmalade in a third.

The lights were mellow in the living room when they finally settled down on the couch that had a backrest, looking out into the garden. The coffee table was actually an assembly of six smaller tables pushed together. They each used one to put their feet on, while the one in the middle held their huge platter of food and dips and the cooler with the water bottles. Music was playing quietly from invisible speakers, and they brought the glasses of gin&tonic they held in their hands together with a loud clank before they leaned back in the sofa cushions where they sat side by side, small plates with food they picked from the platter by their sides in the spaces between where they sat and the sofa corners.

“So how have you been?” Chris asked, like their meeting over drinks one week ago had been the last time they had actually seen each other.

Lips closed around the straw as he drank from his gin&tonic, Victor asked with his eyes alone whether Chris had lost his mind by any chance. He swallowed and raised his head, flicking his hair back in the movement.

“Really, Chris?” He raised one eyebrow meaningfully as if to say ‘Are we really going to be like this?’

“There’s no need to be treading on egg shells around me, you know. I told you last week.”

Chris heaved a sigh. “I know.”

“You’re awfully quiet lately.” Victor cocked his head like a challenge and his eyes narrowed to two light blue slits.

“I’ve been loud enough, haven’t I?”

“Chris. You’ve said you’re sorry. I know you are. I’ve forgiven you and I told you we can move on. I’m not going to tell you it’s alright. Because it isn’t. I love you, but nothing about what you said that night was alright.”

“I know.” Chris played around with the straw in his glass like he was contemplating whether to look at Victor or not. Eventually he put his glass down on the table and reached for his plate. He saw Victor was doing the same, popping an olive into his mouth.

“Chris.”

He looked up at Victor’s insistent tone, found his friend stare at him, all ice blue affection.

“That’s not what’s on your mind, is it?”

Chris shook his head. He hoped that Victor understood that he needed a moment when he speared two slices of salami with his fork. For a while they ate in silence, almost as comfortable as it had always been between them. Until Chris lowered his plate and Victor looked up.

“I overheard you and Yuuri last week.” He dipped a piece of brie into the chili sauce before he ate it.

“In the washroom,” he added when he saw Victor’s frown. Interesting, he thought. Yuuri hadn’t told him.

Victor nearly knocked over the plate he was balancing on his knees when realisation hit.

“What the fuck _is_ it about my best friend and my boyfriend always overhearing other people in the bathroom?!”

“Who knows? Maybe some weird kink of yours?” Chris winked. Victor snorted quietly.

“Every single word you said was true. And I mean both of you.”

“Chris…” Just the one word sounded like a weird ache inside Victor that Chris could feel.

“You know I would never make you choose,” Chris started but the angry flash in Victor’s eyes made him shut up.

“I’m not so sure at the moment, and it pisses me off.” Victor put his plate down carefully beside him on the couch. “I think right at this moment you would encourage me to choose Yuuri over you. _Yuuri_ is the one who would not make me choose. I’m here, Chris. I’m _here_. I _want_ to be here, and if you even think about making me choose between the two of you because you hate yourself and think you don’t deserve me, I can assure you I will punch you, for real this time. And now please grow your balls back, because I hate to see you like this. I want my idiot back, with all his flaws and imperfections. Be angry, god knows you have every right to be. With your father, and that godawful waste of space, though personally I think he doesn’t even deserve your anger. Good riddance!”

“Wow.” Chris squeezed his plate into the one free corner of the middle table and picked up his gin&tonic again. He smiled, weak, grateful. “I’m just tired. I guess. Moping about alone.”

“Well, _I_ just hope you’re not going to hurl yourself head first into the next relationship.” Victor turned to reach for his plate once more, missing the way Chris’ face contorted in thought for a moment. Victor’s phone sounded in his pocket and he reached for it instinctively, quickly checking for the message. The transformation on his face was immediate, his heart-shaped smile huge as he quickly read over the words on the screen. Then he pocketed his phone quickly and reached for his glass, the food on his plate forgotten.

When Victor faced him again, Chris smiled at him over the brim of his glass.

For a moment, Victor looked a hint of sheepish. “Chris, I’m—”

“Victor.” Chris cut him off. “Don’t you dare. We’ve never done this ‘I’m sorry for spending so much time with a new partner!’ thing, let’s not start now.”

Victor watched him from the side for a moment. Then he nodded and settled back against the back of the couch. For a little while they nursed their drinks in silence, and nothing was heard but the crushing of double roasted Italian bread under their teeth. Their heads turned to face each other as silence fell, green and blue eyes locking, and suddenly they began to laugh.

“Fuck! Do you remember that guy I hooked up with during our year in California and who I was convinced was the love of my life and embarked on a two-week round trip across the States with straight from the college party I met him at?” Chris paused and grimaced, then started laughing again.

“I was so scared you would come back married from Vegas and I would have missed out on your bachelor party!” Victor was curled up laughing, trying not to spill his drink or have antipasti escape from his fork. “Or that he was going to kill you somewhere in the desert in New Mexico and I would have to come and identify you by your Giacometti signet ring with your finger still attached to it, the only thing left of you.”

“He lost interest very quickly when he found out I was not American and he would not get a green card out of me.” Chris chuckled around his straw, then his eyes lit up as he remembered something else.

“And _your_ first boyfriend? The one where you didn’t come out of bed for a whole week?” Chris raised his glass in a toast.

Victor leaned in with a grin and brought his glass against Chris’. “There was a lot of _research_ to do,” he deadpanned. They drank, let the memories waft around them for a little while like a meeting with those people from way back in school you had at one point in your life said goodbye to, knowing you would most likely never encounter them again and were not sad about it either.

“How is your butt, Victor?” Chris asked, when silence returned.

“Fine, thank you, Christophe.” Victor grinned at him, then raised his empty glass. “Next round.”

“Let me pretend to be a good host and fix us new drinks.” Chris took Victor’s glass from him as he rose from the couch.

He waited in the entrance way to the living room for a moment when he returned, glasses of fresh gin&tonic in his hands, watching Victor pouring over this phone and typing a message. Chris didn’t need to be any closer to know that he was writing to Yuuri, his whole body language gave him away. Joy washed over him as he looked on, saw the way Victor smiled, and the way his eyes were sparkling. Then something tugged painfully on the heartstrings as he tried to remember when he had last felt as happy and excited sending a plain text message as Victor looked right now. The thought came unbidden, like one of the nasty little voices in his head, reminding him of this very morning, and two words that had felt so heavy to type and send, and yet so, _so_ right.

“For fuck’s sake, Chris, stop lurking around there and come back here,” Victor said without looking up. Chris could see the corners of his mouth twitching. He watched how his friend’s eyes scanned the message window on his phone again, then it was sent and Victor raised his head, both eyebrows raised at Chris who was walking back over.

Now that they had allowed some of their past back into their company it felt a little easier, just sitting with their feet propped up on the coffee tables and talking, while they ate their way through the whole serving platter of antipasti. It was an hour later when Victor got up from the couch.

“I’m going to make myself another gin&tonic. Do you want one too?”

“You’re not getting another gin&tonic.” Chris sat up straighter, feet coming down on the floor like a statement. “You’ve had two. That’s enough.”

Victor froze mid-movement on the way to the kitchen and stared at him, then laughed. “Good one, Chris.”

“I mean it!” Chris’ tone made Victor stop again.

“I cannot have you going home drunk again. I won’t. I know Yuuri hates my guts right now but I have to start making amends _somewhere_ , and that’s as good a point to start as any. I’m not letting you get pissed.”

It took Victor another long moment of staring at him before he slowly walked back to the couch.

“Stop pouting,” Chris remarked drily and popped another forkful of vintage parmigiano spread with fig mustard into his mouth.

“You know, that’s exactly what Yuuri always tells me.” Victor slumped down beside him again.

“You have good taste.”

“Chris!”

“Victor.”

“Water?” Victor sighed as he reached for the bottle in the cooler in front of them on the coffee table.

“Yes, please, _mon cher_.” Chris held out his empty glass to him with a grin.

“So mean!” Victor muttered as he poured them both sparkling mineral water while he tried to ignore Chris’ chuckle and repress a small grin of his own at the same time.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Yuuri and Phichit were snuggled up in opposite corners of Yuuri’s couch watching _Love Actually_. They had agreed before they started that they were probably watching this movie way too many times every year in the weeks leading up to Christmas, and yet, they always found themselves back singing along with Bill Nighy, bitching about Heike Makatsch, and crying with Emma Thompson.

“ _This_ is always so beautiful, no matter how many times we watch it!” Yuuri declared and pointed at the TVwith three potato chips he had just taken from the bowl on the table in front of his couch.

The video showing a collage of Keira Knightley’s character at her wedding was flickering across the screen.

“‘ _They’re all of me,_ ’” Yuuri said, just a moment before Juliet said it.

“I fucking love this scene!” Phichit said. He sounded emotional.

They watched, mesmerised, as if they had never seen this film before.

“‘ _It’s a self-preservation thing, you see?_ ’” Phichit repeated the words Mark said on screen and heaved a huge sigh. “That is such good shit, I love this so much! Mark is my spirit animal.”

“Oh, so you’re in love with Victor then and sneakily photographing him all the time, huh?” Yuuri asked from the other side of the couch and laughed when Phichit kicked him where their legs were touching.

Phichit grinned and tilted his chin in a challenge. “Watch me show up on your doorstep on Christmas Eve with my little stereo playing carols and showing him a ton of cue cards.”

“It would actually be kind of cute if you really did that for a laugh,” Yuuri mused. They looked at each in earnest for a split second before they fell over laughing.

Later, when the movie was finished and they switched the lights back on, made more hot chocolate and tidied up the soggy tissues that had accumulated on the couch between them over the duration of the movie, they were back sitting in opposite corners like so many times before, their legs touching in the middle, holding mugs of hot chocolate spiked with a little Cointreau in their hands.

“You look tired, Peach. Are you alright?”

Phichit looked at Yuuri across the sofa.

“Just couldn’t sleep very well.”

“We weren’t too loud again, were we?” Yuuri looked panicked all of a sudden, and nervous red spots appeared in his cheeks. It was cute and made Phichit wriggle his eyebrows suggestively.

“What if I said you were?”

“But I’m really trying to keep it down now, and you…” Yuuri fell silent as realisation sank in. He kicked at Phichit’s leg with one foot. “You idiot!”

Phichit laughed out loud and tried to move his legs out of the way. “I’m sorry. But you’re so easy to wind up, and you’re so cute when you’re flustered.”

Yuuri tried to kick him again, but he was smiling now, missing on purpose.

“I spoke to my dad last night and then couldn’t sleep.” Phichit sighed before he brought his mug to his mouth.

“Is he okay?” Yuuri seemed instantly concerned.

“Fine. I just think it made me feel a little homesick?”

Yuuri nodded and hummed quietly in his throat. They both hadn’t visited home forever, work having kept them busy, but they both knew that it was also low phone rates and the possibility of video calls that had made them lazy because those conveniently allowed them to make their families feel near whenever they wanted and timezones allowed.

Somewhere in the sofa corner by his side, Yuuri’s phone buzzed with an incoming message.

“Ooooh, lover boy is missing you,” Phichit teased with shit-eating grin that he tried in vain to hide behind his mug as he raised it quickly to drink.

Yuuri blushed as he reached for his phone, quietly scolding “Peach!” while he had his eyes already on the screen. His smile became wide when he read the message. Phichit watched him, ready to fight for the smile to stay on his own face in case the stupid nagging pull in his own heart started trying to drag it down.

“What?” Yuuri asked when he caught Phichit looking at him.

“Nothing.” Phichit put his empty mug down on the table and stretched his arms over his head, his back curving in the movement. “I just like seeing you happy.”

Yuuri lowered the phone into his lap. “I like seeing you happy too, Peach.”

Phichit had no reply for him just then. So he just smiled wider, and placed his left leg over Yuuri’s where it lay across his right. Grinning at him across the small distance, Yuuri wriggled one of his legs free and put it over Phichit’s so that their legs made a pile on the sofa between them like children make a pile of hands in kindergarten. They wriggled around a bit in their corners, trying to get comfortable with their contorted limbs until they gave up, laughing, and disentangled their legs as soon as Phichit had taken a photo of just their legs and posted it with the hashtag #friendshipgoals. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

On Thursday morning Phichit finished up the choice of pictures from the Christmas party that he considered safe to share on the intranet. He knew Sara would go over his choice again before Chris and Victor got to have the final say.

“Can I have those of me?”

He looked up at the gruff question and found Yura staring at him expectantly. Phichit blinked. He had been so deeply immersed in the collection he and the other members of his team had brought together, the memories of that Friday evening were suddenly much closer than he liked them to be. Yura obviously considered the time it took Phichit to reply to his question much too long, for his pretty features already twisted in that way Phichit liked to tell him took away so much from his attractiveness because he always scowled so much.

“I’m entitled to them, you know?” Yura scoffed. “Personality rights to one’s own picture. You taught me that crap on my first day.”

Phichit had to laugh. How many times had he reminded Yura of privacy rights and data protection regulations! Something like pride surged through him as he nodded.

“Sure, Tiger. I’ll copy them in a separate file for you.” Phichit turned to face his desk once more and started to pick out all the pictures that had Yura in them.

“Thank you.”

Phichit smirked when he heard the muttered words and just gave a faint nod.

A door opened from one of the separate offices close to their desks in the open space area, and a moment later Leo stopped by Phichit’s desk.

“Lunch break, Peach! Let’s get out of here.”

“Just a sec,” Phichit replied without looking up from what he was doing. He marked the content of the new file he had created and cut and pasted it into another file in their team drive he could see Yura had already open on his screen, waiting more or less patiently for Phichit to fill it with photos.

“Are you going to the café down the street?” Yura asked, looking up briefly from his screen where miniature picture after miniature picture was appearing.

Leo nodded. “Not all of us get bento boxes prepared by their boyfriends.”

Yura had looked hopeful, then his face fell and he muttered, “Never mind.”

Leo und Phichit exchanged a knowing glance. They, too, had been sixteen once.

“Come on, Tiger.” Phichit pushed out his chair and gave Yura’s shoulder a nudge. “Let’s go.”

Yura looked more than ever like a stubborn five-year-old as he shook his head.

“I’ll buy you lunch, don’t worry.” Phichit grinned when he saw Yura’s astonished face. “Do you think I haven’t noticed your fancy new animal print coat and boots? I know how much money you get as an intern, even with the Christmas bonus.” He winked.

“Blew it all on new clothes?” Leo chuckled. “Don’t we remember the times? From what I’ve heard from Mila, Yakov is not exactly generous with raising pocket money.”

Yura lifted one foot to show off the sturdy leather boots with a leopard print insert on the sides.

“They look chunky on your stick-like legs, and cool as fuck.” Phichit grabbed his coat from the back of his chair. The faux fur lining of the hood tickled his face faintly and he tried to smoothen it down with both hands.

“Of course he looks cool as fuck, Peach, he’s _your_ intern,” Leo said drily.

Phichit was still preening as they made their way downstairs in the lift. He ignored their teasing as he checked his hair and clothes in the mirror on the elevator wall, a stupid little habit he had developed over the years and now didn’t know how to get rid of again. Looking beyond his own reflection he wondered whether Yura was actually even aware of how beautiful he looked when he didn’t scowl for a change but had this timid smile on his face like right now, like he always did when it seemed to surprise him that something he said was fully acknowledged by the grown-ups around him. And yes, Phichit liked to take some credit, he thought, for the growth that was visible in Yura since he had first come here and been placed with Phichit. Phichit who had been thrilled and terrified alike to suddenly find himself with a snotty teenaged intern who cared about nothing but his phone and his grandfather back in Russia.

Leo’s stomach rumbled loudly, and they all snickered as the lift reached the ground floor with a ping and the door slid open. Except that Phichit felt it was still going, plunging downwards at neck-breaking speed, when they found themselves face to face with Chris and Victor.

The usual polite-cheerful greetings and small talk ensued that was bound to take place between colleagues and superiors who to some extent were much more closely connected in their private lives. Phichit registered it all like through a magnifying glass, his smile firmly in place while he was hoping nobody could hear the sudden pounding of his heart. Victor reminding Yura not to eat too much because it was their family dinner in the evening and Lilia was cooking up a storm. Yura snarling back that he had always finished everything that was put on his plate yet. The Italian designer winter coat Chris was wearing and that Phichit knew cost something within the four-figure range. Victor explaining that they were just coming back from a meeting out of town while they waited for them to file out of the lift so that they could get in.

“Phichit.”

Chris gave him a polite nod and a smile when Phichit walked past him.

“Hi.” Phichit was still smiling, luckily still smiling, he thought, and he could feel his head still held high, as well as his whole being still carried by the mood that had made him feel so confident and empowered on the way downstairs.

He followed Leo and Yura across the foyer towards the exit, willing himself to hear every step of every foot in every shoe and to not hear this joy tingling inside him, and to not register this excitement drumming in his chest. And not to feel this overpowering desire to turn around and look at _him_ , which took him completely by surprise and was so hard to repress that it hurt. Somewhere behind them, the lift doors closed, he felt it more than he heard it, and Phichit exhaled with the sound of the main doors sliding open to let them spill out into the street.

The moment they got back from their lunch break, Phichit poured himself down into his seat and opened a new window on the internal messenger.

**Phichit Chulanont**

**_online_ **

_I think we should talk_

_are you free Saturday afternoon?_

**Christophe Giacometti**

**_online_ **

_yes, and yes_

**Phichit Chulanont**

**_online_ **

_can I come over?_

**Christophe Giacometti**

**_online_ **

_anytime_

**Phichit Chulanont**

**_offline_ **

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Phichit was ready by lunchtime. Like with every great fear, once he had mustered up the courage to face it straight on, he just wanted to get it over and done with.

He had slept exceedingly well, owing to the fact that on Thursday night he had not slept at all. Friday was a blur of work and Bollywood night, and Leo’s hand shaking him awake time and again because he was dozing off throughout the movie and made embarrassed excuses that had everyone laughing even more. Apart from him they had all fallen asleep at some point during Bollywood night, even Victor, and suffered the wrath of Phichit Chulanont who would not stand for such disrespect. His friends had had a field day.

He had spent the morning grocery shopping and cleaning his entire apartment, yet it was only just 11 when he headed into the shower and then picked out his favourite clothes. His favourite pair of skinny black jeans. His favourite cream-coloured sweater that he had bought together with his parents before he went to college in the States. It always made him feel sophisticated and classy, and snugly engulfed in his family’s love at the very same time. Nothing bad had ever happened to him wearing this sweater. Phichit was sure that this was going to change today, but at least he would look really good and feel confident when he took his blow. He _needed_ to feel confident. Because there was this weird nervous feeling inside his stomach that made him feel like he was on his way to the gallows.

He knew what he was going to say. He also knew that there was a high probability of him not saying any of it at all and something completely different instead. His knees were fidgeting, thighs moving in and out while he sat on the couch. He even opened YouTube, usually such a guarantee to suck him in only to spit him out three years later with long hair and a beard down to his chest and several spiders having stuck him to his couch by weaving webs off his limbs. But not today. The YouTube magic failed to work today. Time simply refused to go by faster.

He had stocked up his fridge and freezer with so much of his favourite comfort food that he wished he was coming back home already so that he could pig out on the couch and stuff his face all weekend before his life just moved on like before, because he would have moved this massive weight off his chest.

A couple of minutes past midday Phichit decided it was afternoon enough.

He grabbed his phone and wallet and put his coat and shoes on on, suddenly wishing fervently Guang Hong was there and knew what he was about to do because Guang Hong was so good at firing people up. For lack of Guang Hong, and looking at himself in the mirror, Phichit ran one hand through his hair again, fussing until the strands falling into his face fell just right.

“Okay,” he said to his reflection and took a deep breath. “Let’s go there, say your piece, come home, cry a little into your ice-cream, and move on.”

It sounded easy enough. Determined to be back within the hour, Phichit grabbed his keys and headed out.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Chris was standing on his terrace, huddled in a warm coat and holding a cup of coffee with both hands. It was a cold day that already smelt of winter, frost glazing the grass and the stray fallen leaves scattered across the sleeping lawn as far as the eye could see. Sugar-coating and beautifying everything that was withered and broken. He brought the cup to his mouth and blew on the steaming liquid. Took a first careful sip that still scalded his mouth a little but didn’t stop him from sipping more.

Filling his lungs with cold almost-winter air, he felt a great calm seep into him as he watched the small wafts of condensation dance in front of his face. He had always loved winter. It suited him.

His face was set with firm determination. Over the past few days he had done lot of thinking. He had come to a lot of conclusions about how he wanted to sort out his life. It wouldn’t sit well with everybody and he would tread on some toes. He knew there was hurt somewhere in his very near future that he wasn’t able to spare, no matter how much it grieved him having to do so. He owed this to himself and to the people around him if he ever wanted to heal. For now, he was waiting. He knew exactly what he was going to say.

It was a beautiful day, Chris decided as he drank another sip of coffee. A beautiful day to clean up his life.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Phichit squared his shoulders resolutely before he rang the doorbell. He had thought about how he was going to do this all the way here in the car, and he felt he had come to a decision that would spare the both of them the most embarrassment and awkwardness. He would just grip the band-aid again and pull it off.

The door was opened, and Phichit cleared his throat.

“Hello Phichit.” Chris smiled and made way for Phichit to come inside. He smiled. Damn!

Phichit waited for Chris to close the door and walk around him.

“Can I take your coat?” Chris asked, but Phichit shook his head.

“No. This won’t take long.” He simply unbuttoned his coat and took a strategic step back. Closer to the door.

“Fair enough.” Chris nodded and leaned back against the sofa that was facing away from the door. He was tall enough for his butt to rest comfortably on the back of the couch. Not that Phichit noticed.

“I’m just going to say what I have to say and then I’ll be out of your hair,” Phichit said. He hoped he wasn’t too loud; the blood was pounding in his ears and he felt like his nerves were going to get the better of him. But he wouldn’t back off, not now. He would deliver his speech, and then leave. Except that the moment he started talking he forgot what he had planned to say. Terrified of making an even bigger fool of himself, he just let all the thoughts and feelings and worries tumble out at once.

“I’m sorry for just hitting you with that on Monday! I don’t know what got into me, and I want to apologise for making things awkward. It probably wasn’t my smartest move to just run out and ignore your texts and calls either. I’m sorry if I worried you or something, I wasn’t thinking straight. I don’t even know when or how it happened. My crush on you. One day I just realised that my heart did really stupid things when you smiled, or when you walked in somewhere with that… swagger you have in your damn suits and your goddamn long legs!”

The corners of Chris’ mouth twitched momentarily.

“I didn’t want it. I didn’t want to feel that way. Every other day Yuuri told me what an utter asshole you can be and what a spoilt brat. And I’ve seen it myself. And I’ve been feeling like such a prize idiot, because who falls in love with a guy who’s an asshole half of the time and flies out to Paris to treat his good-for-nothing lover and doesn’t even realise that this waste of space only bleeds him dry. And it killed me! I was crushing so hard on you even though you _were_ an asshole and I knew you had a boyfriend, and you’re my boss. That’s the worst, falling in love with your boss! And all this time I couldn’t tell anyone. I didn’t even tell Yuuri, and Yuuri knows everything about me, really _everything_. Just not _that_ because I don’t want to look like an insipid fool to the whole world, but especially not to my best friend, for being the idiot who falls for a guy like you. So I bitched about you as much as the next person. Like a self-preservation thing.”

He paused to take a couple of frantic breaths, but his heart was like a bottle of new wine that had been shaken, it was bubbling and fizzing and shoving at the cork that was desperately trying to keep in the sticky sweet flood of emotions until it gave way and just popped.

“I didn’t want to feel sorry for you. I didn’t want to drive you home. I hated every single moment of that night, just so you know! I didn’t want to come here and see your home, and feel the fucking loneliness in every corner, and I didn’t want to let you get under my skin. And then I did. And I liked spending time with you. I really, really liked the person behind the asshole I was finally able to see, and I enjoyed talking to you, and I didn’t expect that. I thought we could be friends. And I know that I’ve ruined everything with my stupid confession. I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was hoping to happen once you know, or what I was expecting of you. I think I was just getting carried away. I’m not expecting anything of you. Please don’t think that! I know you’re going to tell me in a minute that there’s no point to all this and that you’re not interested in me, and that’s okay. I just want this… _mess_ out of the way. So we can both move on. I know you won’t be interested in even being friends either after I just threw all this… stuff at you. That’s okay, too. I just… needed to get all this off my chest.”

Phichit fell silent. He was pretty sure he had sounded a little too loud towards the end, and more than a little too hysterical all through. But it was done. It was over. He was breathing fast and nervously, like he had just run a hundred miles. His hands felt for the door in his back, just reassuring himself of the fact that the way out was right there.

Phichitswallowed. He was scared of looking directly at Chris.

He looked directly at Chris.

Chris had listened to his whole tirade without interrupting. His face had given nothing away. Instead, he had looked at him with a calm patience that was a completely foreign concept to Phichit. Finally, he took a long, lingering breath. Oh god, Phichit thought, that sounded like a sigh. A sigh was not good. Forcing air into his lungs, Phichit braced himself for the harsh truth.

“Can I talk now?”

Chris looked at him, calm. And patient. With a hint at a smile.

Phichit nodded. Very slowly.

“That was… quite the confession.” Chris sounded thoughtful. Composed. “Thank you for your honesty.”

And now he did smile, and Phichit wished he didn’t. He didn’t need his pity.

“I’m not very good at relationships, that’s common knowledge. But it’s like this: I like you.”

Phichit felt his mouth open, very slowly, and forced it shut.

Something like a hopeful smile flitted across Chris’ face. “I like you too, Phichit, and if you want to… on _your_ terms… I would like to give this a chance.”

Phichit blinked. He heard his father’s voice in his head for some strange reason, asking what his plan B was. Phichit wanted to laugh as he realised - he didn’t have one. He didn’t have a plan B because these were not the words he had expected Chris to say. Phichit started to panic.

“I enjoy talking to you too. You’re smart, and you’re funny, and I feel… wholesome, when you’re around. I would like to spend more time with you and get to know you. If you want.”

Chris rose from the back of the couch but did not come closer, like he sought to maintain a distance that he wanted Phichit to decide when to cross.

Phichit was still staring at him like he was allowed to really see him for the first time. There was no trace of pretense on Chris’ face, in his whole body language. Everything about him was open, unguarded, vulnerable.

Oh god, Phichit thought. And then there was his father’s voice again.

_What do_ you _want?_

He thought for another moment. Listened inside himself for another moment.

_What do_ you _want?_

“Okay.” Phichit felt the two syllables dance across his lips like sweet, fizzy, bubbly new wine. His whole self felt like fizzy, bubbly new wine, and it was warm, and he was being ridiculous, he knew, but it felt so right.

“Okay?” A smile broke free on Chris’ face, looking as open and unrestrained as a flower that hadn’t been allowed to see the sun for the longest time.

“Yes.” Phichit felt like he had never smiled like he smiled now. “I want to know you too. See where it goes. Maybe we will be sick of each other two weeks from now.”

Chris chuckled. That low, smooth chuckle. Phichit squealed a little inside.

“You call the shots?” Chris asked. The man had a voice like velvet.

“I call the shots.” Phichit nodded. “And for the time being, nobody must know!”

“I figured that this would be the way you want to go,” Chris remarked with a little smile.

“Is this okay for you?”

“Of course. _You_ call the shots.”

“It’s just… if this goes shit-shaped I don’t want to look stupid. As long as nobody knows we will have time to get to know each other without anyone… asking questions. If it doesn’t work out, we can just end things quietly and none of us will look like an idiot.” Phichit knew he was babbling. It didn’t matter now. If Chris wanted to get to know him, he would have to get to know his babbling, too.

Chris nodded. “Sounds fair to me.”

“And I want to tell Yuuri in my own time. I feel like shit already because I’m keeping this from him. I want to tell him as soon as possible, but I’m hoping that he’ll come round to… seeing you with different eyes, too. He will castrate you if you ever hurt Victor again.”

“I’m well aware of that.” Chris nodded.

“He will _kill_ you if you hurt _me_.”

“I don’t expect any less of a best friend.”

For a moment they looked at each other. Phichit didn’t know what to do with the excitement surging through his veins. He wanted to say a million things but not a single one formed into a coherent thought.

“I really, really want to do this,” was what came out, and then he started laughing, thinking, Oh my god, oh my fucking god! And then, So what _now_?

Chris laughed, too, running one finger across this temple as he tilted his head, watching him.

“So…” he started.

Phichit loved it. He knew that already. He loved the way Chris could charge a small word like “So” with so much meaning.

“Since you’re here already, and look dressed for a date…”

He gave him the once-over, and it made Phichit feel hot and cold. He had noticed his clothes!

“A date?” Phichit tried to appear pensive. “Like, here? Now?”

“As we’re going to keep this a secret we’re limited for places to go, though if you’d rather go to the next city that will also be—”

“No,” Phichit interrupted. “Here is good. Here is absolutely fine.”

He tried to rein in the urge to jump up and down with the prospect of coming back to this house. Again. And again.

“It’s just…” It didn’t feel like a date. Not after the speech he had just yelled at Chris and the conversation that had followed. Phichit wanted to arrive properly for a date. He wanted to ring the door bell full of _good_ anticipation. But he didn’t want to explain this to Chris and smother the very tender whatever it was that was just starting to develop between them.

Chris chuckled again. “If you want to get back outside and ring the door bell again in case that makes you feel more like you’re having a date, then go ahead.”

Phichit just looked at him. How could Chris have _known?_

“You don’t think that’s weird?” Phichit asked, tilted head and narrowed eyes.

“Oh Phichit, you’ve seen me at my worst. _That_ was weird! This… I would call this adorable and very humane. A clean slate. And if you want to get back in your car and drive once up and down the street if that makes me feel more like you’re arriving for a date, go right ahead. I don’t think it’s weird. Not at all.”

Phichit felt a blush settle in his cheeks. He reached for the door handle in his back, but his eyes were firmly on Chris’.

“I’ll be right back,” he said, already opening the door very slowly in his back.

Chris nodded. “I’ll be right here.”

He smiled once more, and Phichit wondered how he ever made it out of the door and to his car, and how he possibly remembered where his car keys were and how to unlock it.

He sat in the driver’s seat for a couple of minutes. And he was able to control his breathing, but not the giddy dancing of his heart or the way the corners of his mouth were urging upwards into a smile. He leaned up to check his reflection in the rear view mirror, fussing with his hair a little more. When he felt he looked date-worthy enough, he took his phone from his pocket and sent a text to his father.

_I talked to him!!_

His phone rang a moment later. Phichit muttered a quiet apology to himself, his legs bouncing lightly as he waited impatiently for the phone to stop ringing. When it did, he wrote another message. His other hand already opened the car door while he still hit the button to send it.

_Sorry, dad, can’t talk right now. I’ve got a date._


	4. Scarce Audibly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been dying to get some of these moments out since January! 
> 
> For the right kind of mood that carries this chapter, [put on this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7HT4dMXIr-o). It also provided the chapter title. ❄️
> 
> I hope you like.

**4 - Scarce Audibly**

The door swung open one brief, polite moment after Phichit rang the bell.

“Hi,” he said, fighting down the nerves that set his whole person trembling inside. While walking over from his car he had sent a quick silent prayer to all the deities he remembered having ever heard about, wishing not to make a fool of himself and let his nerves get the better of him. He was also somewhat freezing and very glad to be back inside the house any moment now, looking forward to feeling the cosy warmth of the underfloor heating creep into him the moment he took his shoes off.

“Hello Phichit. Nice to see you.” Chris’ voice was calm, and yet. Phichit was sure he could detect just the slightest nervous edge.

_Oh_ , Phichit thought.

He had wondered how to greet him, whether this was already the moment for a hug, or a kiss on the cheek, but the small time frame in which he would have been able to lean in for either passed without him acting, and then the moment had passed and Chris had already moved back and opened the door wider to let him in. As he stepped through the door Chris held open for him, Phichit caught a whiff of perfume and forced himself not to close his eyes with appreciation and walk straight into the pillar right in front of him. He swung around, this time gladly taking off his coat and handing it over.

He had looked at Chris before, but now he allowed himself to _see_ him. He was wearing his glasses again and was dressed in another pair of what Phichit was sure were designer jeans, as well as a black turtle neck that was fitting rather nicely. His hair looked a little more tousled than it did at work, Phichit guessed for lack of products holding the blond curls in place, and in his mind’s eye he saw himself reaching out and feeling it for himself. He cleared his throat as soundless as he could.

“So…” Chris said when he turned back to face him after hanging up Phichit’s coat in the small closet to the left of the front door. Phichit steeled himself inwardly. “I thought we could have lunch and watch a movie?”

“That sounds like a perfect date to me.” Phichit managed a cheeky smile. “I don’t think I know the full scope of your food ordering skills yet.”

“Well, brace yourself, because you ain’t seen nothing yet.” Chris laughed. “Any preferences?”

“Celestino’s was pretty nice,” Phichit admitted.

“Celestino’s it is. Pizza and bruschetta again?”

Phichit nodded as he watched Chris walk over to the coffee table between the two sofas where Phichit could see his phone lying on one of the small black tables that made up the big one.

“And garlic bread,” Phichit added with all the assuredness of someone who had decided that there would be no kissing here today.

“As you wish,” Chris replied with all the amused composure of someone who had decided not to mind.

He looked at Phichit when he had his phone in his hand. “It’s cold outside and in your car, too, I reckon, so how about I make some hot chocolate?”

“With canned whipped cream, I hope?” Phichit asked and bit back a smile.

He heard that low, deep chuckle he had come to like so much until Chris was out of earshot.

While waiting, Phichit wandered over to the large window front to look out at the garden. Frost had dusted everything with glistening white. Phichit could almost hear how it would sound if he walked out there, frostbitten grass and leaves crackling softly under his feet like tissue paper wrapped around a precious gift. What he did hear was the low timbre of Chris’ voice talking on the phone some two rooms away, and the ping of the microwave, and then the faint hiss of cream sprayed from an aerosol can.

“How are we going to watch movies?” Phichit called out from the living room. “I don’t see a TV.”

Chris came in from the kitchen with two mugs of hot chocolate and put them down on the low coffee table in the seating area between the jutty leading to the kitchen and the centre living room where Phichit was currently standing.

“You’re interested in interior design, you said. You tell me.” He looked at Phichit with a mischievous spark in his eyes. “Where do you suppose a TV would be in this room?”

Phichit took a look around, scanned every piece of furniture. Finally he pointed at a slim but wide sideboard that looked like a partition between the centre living room and the slightly lower one with two couches and an armchair Chris was next to just at this moment.

“I bet there’s a fancy button hidden somewhere that makes this sideboard open and a flat screen come up. The two metal pillars flanking that thing aren’t tall vases or decorations but speakers.”

He looked at Chris, one eyebrow raised as if to ask if he was right.

“Bingo.” Grinning, Chris picked up a remote control from one of the two small round glass tables next to the sofas. They each had a lamp in the shape of a zen stone tower with a large blue shade on it. Pushing a button on the remote opened up a slot in the top of the sideboard through which a large flat-screen TV emerged.

Phichit hurried over from where he was standing by the terrace door and whistled through his teeth. A moment later they were each settled on one of the sofas, sitting in those corners where the two sofas nearly touched. Chris had not bat an eye when Phichit had chosen the other sofa instead of sitting down beside him.

“Okay.” Phichit looked up from his mug. “Favourite movie. I don’t care how embarrassing it is. I need to know.”

Chris’ mouth contorted for a moment as he seemed to ponder his options over a sip of hot chocolate. “Pirates of the Caribbean.”

Phichit narrowed his eyes. “Which part?”

“First and second. I _can_ tolerate the third.” Chris frowned in thought. “After a lot of alcohol. Everything else that came after that does not exist to me.”

They both laughed, and Phichit nodded. It was very understandable.

“Will Turner fan, are you?”

Chris’ eyebrows climbed in surprise. “Is it that obvious?” he asked smoothly.

Phichit huffed a little. “He’s the only hot guy in the whole movie! He’s got that long hair and beard thing going for him. You know, that well-trimmed stubble and goatee thing that is super sexy…” He fell silent.

Chris made a noncommittal humming sound and rubbed his own well-trimmed goatee with two fingers for a moment, very obviously desperately trying to fight back a grin before he decided to drink like nothing had happened.

Phichit on the other hand realised what he just said and stared down into his mug of hot chocolate like seriously contemplating whether he could just drown himself in it. 

“Your turn.” He looked up at the sound of Chris’ voice. The green eyes behind the glasses were dancing with far too much mirth for Phichit’s taste. “What’s your favourite movie?”

“Oh!” Phichit needed a moment to grasp the safety buoy Chris had tossed his dignity. He drank up all of his remaining hot chocolate, brows crinkled in thought. “If we count out about fifteen Bollywood movies… _Love Actually_. For this time of year.”

“You have a favourite movie for every season?” Chris seemed amused.

“Of course.” Phichit put his empty mug on the table in front of them and started to explain. He was just in the middle of summing up why the people putting down _Letters to Juliet_ were all in the wrong when he remembered something and stopped talking. 

“Shouldn’t you be going to pick up the food?” he asked.

“No.” Chris chuckled. As if on cue the doorbell rang right at this very moment, cutting off whatever Phichit had been about so say.

For the next couple of minutes Phichit stared at Chris opening the door and taking a whole load of pizza cartons and paper bags from someone on his doorstep. He jumped up to take some of them off him, already carrying them to the kitchen while Chris was still laughing and joking with the guy by the door. When Chris joined him in the kitchen, another paper bag in his hand which he placed beside the already assembled bags and pizza cartons, Phichit pointed at the name and logo printed on every box and bag.

“You got them to deliver?” Phichit asked, staring at him dumbfounded and then back at the food on the breakfast counter. “You got food delivered to your house from Celestino’s!”

Chris had the grace to look at least a little embarrassed.

“But Celestino’s doesn’t deliver!” Phichit was still completely shell-shocked.

“Please don’t tell Victor or Sara, or I’ll never hear the end of it!” Chris looked genuinely concerned. “They do this, on rare occasions, like today when the lunch rush has already died down and the waiters are getting off for their break. Sometimes I can sweet-talk Ciao Ciao into having someone drop it off on their way home. For a certain minimum order value and a generous tip of course.”

“ _Minimum_ order value?” Phichit asked, with eyes the size of saucers as he started to look into pizza cartons and paper bags. “You were serious about my having seen nothing yet when you order food!”

“I wasn’t when I said it, I’d like to make that very clear.” Chris dove down to get plates from the china cabinet. Phichit was pretty sure it was also to hide his laughing face.

“But this is enough pizza for a whole family!”

Chris shrugged when he came back up, serving plates in one hand. “I love cold pizza for Sunday breakfast and reheated pizza for Sunday lunch and dinner.”

Phichit couldn’t help himself. He started laughing. “You’re unbelievable!”

“Is that a good or a bad thing?” Chris asked, head cocked with curiosity as he opened one pizza carton.

Phichit tried to become serious and looked at him for a long moment. “We’ll see,” he said at last.

He snatched two smaller plates and napkins as well as the bag of pizza rolls from the counter and announced he would already carry those through. He heard Chris laughing in his back all the way to the living room.

When Chris joined Phichit, his eyebrows shot up when he saw that Phichit was sitting on the other sofa now, right next to Chris’ earlier spot, and that he had arranged the small plates side by side, indicating that they were going to sit next to each other.

“The TV screen is more easily visible from this one,” Phichit remarked when he saw Chris’ face.

“Of course.” Chris put down the pizza and went back to the kitchen to fetch water and glasses.

“You do know…” he mused when he came back in, “that the TV screen can be moved around so that it’s easily visible from both sofas.”

Phichit rolled his eyes. “ _Sit_ down, Christophe!” he said and patted the space beside him once for good measure. 

By the time they came to Phichit’s favourite scene in the first movie, he noticed Chris looking at him for a moment from the corner of his eye. He suddenly felt hot and cold at the same time, not because he felt Chris’ gaze on him but because it suddenly occurred to him that he had quoted this moment earlier. He had actually said this self-preservation thing, out loud, to Chris’ face. Groaning inwardly, Phichit resisted the urge to slide down from the sofa and preferably out of sight and leaned forward instead, pouring over the food on the table in front of them with so much meticulous interest as if he had never seen it before and couldn’t make up his mind what he wanted.

By the middle of the second movie, Chris had his arm placed loosely on the back of the sofa. Phichit was well aware of it, even though he didn’t touch him. Mostly because he spent a large part of the movie on the edge of his seat, gesticulating at the TV with a half-eaten pizza roll.

“God, I always want to whack him over the head in that scene!” Phichit exclaimed when on screen, Will Turner asked Elizabeth why she had given Barbossa _his_ name. “He’s as dense as he is handsome!”

He flung himself back, the back of his head lightly touching Chris’ forearm where it lay across the back of the couch. After a moment, his mouth curled into a smile while his gaze was fixed on the screen.

By the beginning of the third movie, Chris rose to fix them some more hot chocolate. It was dark outside by then, and Phichit stood up for a moment to stretch his arms and legs. When he sat back down an unexpected movement in the light of the two lamps on the small glass tables caught him by surprise.

“Jesus!” he muttered and eyed the large cat that had come out of nowhere and jumped on the couch. “You gave me a fright.”

The cat eyed him back with interest and meowed. Phichit felt a little ridiculous, sitting as still as he did.

“Wait… am I in your spot? Because if I am that could become a potential problem in the future… oh. Hello.”

She had walked across the sofa and onto his thighs and was looking straight at him now. Her paws were balanced on his legs, weighing down much heavier than he would have thought possible in a cat.

“Please don’t scratch me now, I really love these pants!” He brought one hand down to her back and ran it across the white fur as carefully as he dared. “You have the cutest face, do you know that? And your name is the same as my favourite Bollywood actress’. I didn’t think I would actually ever get to call anyone Rani for real.” He ran his hands gently across her back while talking, and his eyes widened when she stepped off his legs, only to lay herself down across his lap. Phichit was lost when the purring began.

When he caught a movement in the doorway from the kitchen and saw Chris standing there, watching with two mugs of hot chocolate in his hands how Phichit was pinned down onto the couch by roughly five kilos of cat in his lap, Phichit threw up his arms in defence and shot him a helpless smile.

“I told you she likes you.” Chris chuckled as he came over to the couch and sat down beside him again.

Phichit watched the movie with Chris’ arm behind him across the back of the sofa and just a few inches of space between them before their knees and thighs would touch, running his hands repeatedly through the fur of the largest, queenliest and certainly most expensive cat he had ever seen. It was everything he had not expected this day to turn out to be, and yet, he felt stupidly, excitedly, ridiculously happy.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“You don’t even like cats.”

Phichit scrunched up his face at his father’s words. He was sitting on his couch with his knees drawn to his chest and his Sunday morning coffee in one hand while he had his phone in the other.

“I do not dislike cats, I am impartial to cats,” he stated. “That’s different. I’m impartial to dogs too, and I still love Vicchan and Shi like my own.”

His father sighed. It sounded dramatic, and scarily familiar to Phichit. He might have sighed like that once. Or occasionally.

“So how did it end?”

“The cat story?”

“Your _date_ , Phichit!”

Phichit laughed, glad to be winding his father up a little. “We watched the end of the movie, had hot chocolate, then he saw me off by the door and I went home.”

“Did you kiss?”

“No! It was our first date.”

His father made an incoherent sound.

“What?” Phichit frowned.

“I didn’t have you down for an ‘I don’t kiss on the first date’ person.”

“I’m not. It just didn’t feel… right yet? We’re still getting to know each other.”

“You can learn a lot about a person by kissing them. On my first date with your mother I—”

“Oh my god, dad!” Phichit almost yelled. “Please spare me the details!”

Laughter rang through the phone.

“Are there sparks?” his father asked eventually when he’d stopped laughing.

“Yeah.” Phichit sighed. “Hell, yeah. And you know what he did when he saw me off by the door?!”

“Did he at least _try_ to kiss you?”

“Dad!” Phichit rolled his eyes so passionately as if part of him was hoping it would be visible from Bangkok. “I was standing in the door, ready to go home, and he was leaning there from the inside with one hand braced on the doorframe, and he looked me sooooo deep in the eyes. For one of those really long, lingering moments. And then he just said ‘Goodnight’! And I walked to my car thinking, ‘What the fuck! _I’m_ supposed to be one who’s on top of things here!’”

“I love it.” More laughter from his father. Then, gently, “So you’ve started to see some more sides to him.”

Phichit made a sound of agreement around a mouthful of coffee.

“Phichit.”

He swallowed. “Yeah?”

“Do you like what you see?”

An incoming message distracted him momentarily. It was just a picture, showing a by now familiar white Villeroy&Boch serving plate heaped with pizza slices, an empty carton partly visible in the corner. And inside the carton - and he could also see it poured all over the pizza slices now - sat the glass of homemade sweet chili sauce he had left behind.

“Yes,” Phichit said and slid further down on the couch. “I like what I see. Very, very much.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The email came on Monday morning, when Sara had just dismissed her team from their weekly department meeting. Phichit glanced over to where Yura was going through their social media channels collecting all feedback that had come in over the weekend. He seemed preoccupied enough.

From: c.giacometti@crispinogiacometti.com

To: p.chulanont@crispinogiacometti.com

Subject: Question…

_Okay, so…_

_This is probably moving way too fast and I want you to know that you can say no and I won’t hold it against you, but… Mickey has gifted me with this weekend in some wellness hotel up in the Swiss mountains. He thinks I need a little time-out. Lie around in a whirlpool, get pampered, the lot._

_It’s this weekend, there Friday after work, back Sunday afternoon. Would you like to come along?_

Another email came in, nothing in it apart from a link to the hotel in question and the words _If that helps…_

Phichit nearly whistled through his teeth when he opened the link and clicked through he pictures. He was ready to pack a bag and go right away. It was perfect. Going away somewhere couldn’t have been more perfect for getting to know each other better and actually be doing something, not confined to Chris’ house, and without worrying that someone they knew would spot them together. There was only one problem about this upcoming weekend and it splashed disappointment over Phichit like cold water drowning out the happy little flame of his excitement. Even though there were no concrete plans that he knew of yet, Phichit knew that he would never go anywhere on his best friend’s birthday.

From: p.chulanont@crispinogiacometti.com

To: c.giacometti@crispinogiacometti.com

Subject: RE: Question…

_Christophe,_

_who the hell_ _are_ _you people that you treat friends to weekends in such hotels!_

_It looks amazing, and I would love to come, I honestly would._

_However, this weekend is really bad for me. I’m sorry. :(_

He had just sent it, trying to ignore the pang of regret in his heart, when a new window of the internal messenger popped up his screen.

**Victor Nikiforov**

**_online_ **

_hi Phichit!_

_I want to take Yuuri to Milan this weekend for his birthday_

_could you help me with something?_

**Phichit Chulanont**

**_online_ **

_is grass green?_

_anything to spoil my boy!_

**Victor Nikiforov**

**_online_ **

_perfect!_

From: p.chulanont@crispinogiacometti.com

To: c.giacometti@crispinogiacometti.com

Subject: RE: Question…

_Christophe,_

_My weekend plans just sorted themselves out._

_Brb, packing my trunks!_

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

They met in Chris’ driveway at lunchtime on Friday, having agreed that Phichit leaving his car in the company parking lot might look suspicious to someone who recognised it. He parked it in Chris garage instead, gaping a whole five minutes at the fact that he actually had an underground car park that belonged to his house. Then he took a second suitcase from the boot that he had sneakily deposited there the night before along with the one he had packed for Yuuri, who at the same time sat cuddling both his and Victor’s poodle on his couch, unawares that the next morning he would be whisked away to Milan by Victor.

Phichit relocated his suitcase to Chris’ Jaguar and hopped in on the passenger side where Chris was holding open the door for him and then closed it too. They were quiet on the way, letting the radio lull them with music over the hum of the engine. Phichit was glad when he felt after a couple of minutes that it was okay not to talk. That he didn’t feel like he had to. It was a rare sensation for him, who considered himself bubbly and outspoken. Few people knew that he could be quiet, too. His family, sometimes. Yuuri, Leo and Guang Hong.

Phichit waited until they were past check-in and security until he couldn’t hold back the very obvious question any longer.

“We’re flying?” he asked, both eyebrows dancing meaningfully over his crinkled forehead.

“Yeah.” Chris sighed. “Mickey was sorry about that too, he knows how much I hate having to fly but he claims for just one weekend too much time is lost on trains, which I must admit I agree with.”

“Let me pay my share in the flight compensation,” Phichit said, in a tone that wouldn’t take no for an answer. There was no question for him that Chris would have tried to make amends somehow for travelling by plane.

Chris already opened his mouth to deny but thought better of it when he saw Phichit’s face. So he just nodded, and led the way into the waiting lounge.

“What time are we going back on Sunday?” Phichit asked as he sat down in one of the comfortable armchairs opposite Chris.

“Early afternoon.” Chris smiled at him across the small table between them. “Don’t worry, we’ll be in and out of the airport before the plane from Milan gets in. You’ll be home before Yuuri.”

“Okay.” Phichit nodded. Relief settled over him and made him relax further into the upholstery. He’d heard it from Victor, of course, when they talked about the welcome home they were setting up for Yuuri, but it was good to hear it confirmed.

“I’ll get us some coffee.” Chris rose from his seat and placed his coat over the back of his chair. A fresh, woody fragrance hit Phichit when he squeezed past him, the hem of the suit jacket he still wore brushing Phichit’s shoulder just so in passing. Phichit closed his eyes and tried to chase to scent. Something spicy, he thought, cardamom perhaps, definitely bergamot. And something warm, wholesome. Cedar. He had sampled countless perfumes in his life, the shop assistants in the largest perfumery in the city were on first name basis with him and he bargained discounts on the big brand scents out of them all the time. But he couldn’t place this, and it drove him slightly crazy, because he was the kind of person who liked to go to the shops just to smell a perfume bottle for a scent of someone dear that he missed.

It was a short flight to Zurich, though when they saw the car Mickey had arranged as their airport transfer from the hotel Chris laughed and Phichit flailed a little.

“A fucking limousine!” Phichit snorted as he sank in the leather seats after they had taken off their coats and placed them on the opposite seats.

“Mickey, you smug bastard!” Chris had opened the mini bar and reached for the bottle of champagne that was chilling in there.

“Oh, to be living your life!” Phichit teased and shook his head where it was leaning back against the comfortable headrest of the seat. The champagne cork popped when Chris opened the bottle and poured a glass.

“The life of a rich bitch?” Chris handed him a champagne flute filled with beautiful pearling bubbles. It sounded much less enthusiastic or complacent than Phichit wasn’t sure he had expected or not.

Once he was seated beside Phichit, turned towards him with one leg crossed over the other, Chris held out his glass for a toast to a great weekend.

“Actually, I _am_ ,” Phichit remarked after the first couple of sips of champagne. “A rich bitch. My parents are loaded. Not like you, obviously, but for Thai standards definitely.”

Chris didn’t say anything for a while, like he was waiting for Phichit to say more.

“My mum raised us in a very humble manner. When it came to education and books, funds were limitless. But not for useless stuff. If we wanted a new pair shoes we had to use our own pocket money. We learned never to waste food for example. To honour the value of money and never take for granted that we can have anything we want.”

Phichit held out his empty glass to Chris for a refill. “Doesn’t stop me from enjoying the good things in life from time to time.”

Laughing, Chris topped off their glasses.

When they arrived Phichit paused for a moment to marvel at the mountains that seemed close enough to touch. He took a couple of photos on the spot. It was very cold, but there was no snow, which Phichit couldn’t help but feel disappointed about.

It was the first weekend the hotel opened for the winter season, so it was not crowded. There were very few people in the lobby, and they didn’t meet any other guests as they made their way to their room, following the valet who carried their suitcases.

“HO-LY shit!”

Phichit gawked when the door closed behind the valet after Chris had tipped him and he looked around the suite Mickey had booked. It was a large penthouse suite, the living area they walked in on looking warm and comfortable with a large sofa and leather armchair around a table that held a small assortment of spirits and two heavy glass tumblers. A white wall curved out into the room in a wide bow in between the separate areas, leaving just a narrow space for them to wheel their suitcases through past a dining table with chairs the leather of which matched the armchair. There was a milk glass door right in the centre of the curved wall, Phichit saw as he walked past, opening into a well-lit bathroom with marble sinks and some citrusy colour on the walls that reminded him of something between a lemon and a tangerine but definitely made him crave a fruit juice right here and now. He nearly bumped into Chris who had stopped abruptly and cleared his throat a little pointedly at the sight before them.

“Oh.” Phichit let go of the handle of his suitcase and looked at the oversized bed in front of them. The corners of his mouth twitched, and he tried to hold it in, he really did. But he couldn’t.

“There is only one bee-heed…” he sing-songed in his best teasing, ambiguous voice.

Chris was already carefully prodding the visible margin between the two halves of the bed with one foot. “We can probably push them apart,” he said, “or call up someone to do it for us. Or I could sleep on the couch.”

Phichit kicked off his shoes. “Don’t be ridiculous, Christophe.”

He gave him a brief frown before he took a leap and jumped on the side of the bed closest to him. He moved one arm up and down like making half a snow angel without snow, then patted the soft woollen bedcover with one hand. The large applications of edelweiss flowers felt fluffy under his touch.

“You don’t mind sharing the bed?”

Phichit raised himself up on one elbow at Chris’ question.

“What, scared I’ll jump you in the middle of the night, Giacometti?”

Chris chuckled. “What if _I_ jump _you_ in the middle of the night?”

“You won’t,” Phichit said, satisfied. “ _I_ call the shots.”

“I knew that was going to come back to bite me in the butt eventually,” Chris joked and shrugged off his unbuttoned coat. He placed it over a wide armchair at the foot of the bed. The print was a dark blue and silver zebra pattern, and Phichit made a mental note to snap a picture of it for Yura, just in case. It wasn’t a big cat but still very stylish, and Phichit had high hopes for Yura’s tastes yet, especially under his tutelage.

“So, Christophe.” Phichit grinned when Chris turned to face him, slipping out of his own shoes. “How good are your jumping-on-hotel-bed-skills?”

For a moment he bit his lip, worried that this might have been too silly, too childish.

Chris looked at him, then took in the currently Phichit-free side of the bed and the narrow space between the foot of the bed and where he was standing like judging the distance.

“They’re probably quite rusty because I haven’t done this forever…” He smirked when he looked up.

“Never too late to refresh your abilities,” Phichit said. And broke into the biggest smile when the next moment the bed beside him dipped under the weight of Chris leaping onto it like a big, graceful cat.

“So…” Phichit swallowed hard when they lay face to face, propped up on their elbows.

“So...” Chris raised one meaningful eyebrow. “What do you want to do until dinner? I booked us a table in the restaurant but if you want to check out the spa first or go for a swim we can do that and have dinner a little later?”

“A swim would be really great actually,” Phichit said and flopped down on his back again. “I’ve been sitting down most of the day, I’m feeling a little antsy.” He turned his face towards Chris.

“And I’ve been flailing over the pictures of that pool all week, I can’t wait to get in there.”

“Okay then.” Chris rolled over to get out of bed. Phichit pretended not to stare at his arse and notice his suit pants clinging perfectly as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed. “I’ll call reception and postpone our dinner by an hour.”

“Yeah,” Phichit muttered. He sounded a little weak.

The pool area was completely deserted. Phichit threw his towel on the first lounger he came across and took off his towel robe without a fuss. He was in the water within moments, after a quick splash and many gasps under one of the showers hidden behind a nook in the wall, his feet leaving wet prints on the stone tiles as he hurried towards the pool and slowly descended the stairs down into the water, one hand on the metal rail. He launched into a breast stroke, pushing himself off the last step with his foot, and swam until he was almost hidden between two of the high stone convexities that caved out from the wall like 3D protrusions. He turned and swam back, sought a hold on the floor of the pool with both feet and came to stand with the water reaching all the way up above his shoulders.

“What are you waiting for, Christophe?” His words echoed a little from the stone walls of the empty pool area.

Phichit smoothed his hair back with two hands and looked over to where Chris was still standing by the loungers. “Don’t worry, I’m here for a swim. I’m not checking you out.”

Chris merely raised one eyebrow at him as he reached for the belt of his robe.

“I dare say you already did,” he said drily, slipped the robe off his shoulders and tossed it on one of the loungers before he disappeared around the niche in the wall where the shower started with loud splashing.

And Phichit, remembering suddenly how he had undressed Chris after the Christmas party and Chris had woken up in nothing but underpants and socks, immersed his glowing head under water.

One hour later they set out from their room again, not in towel robes this time but dressed smartly, Chris in another suit and white shirt but without a tie and the top two buttons unbuttoned. Phichit had pondered over his dinner outfit for days and finally packed a pair of black pants and a new light blue shirt with a black blazer. He felt a little like he was heading into a business meeting and had forgotten his tie, though the way his heart did stupid somersaults every time Chris smiled at him or held open a door for him had nothing to do with business at all. It was easy to forget that Chris was in fact his boss. He seemed younger again, relaxed. He smiled a lot. Phichit noticed.

The restaurant was a large room with lots of light wood panelling on the walls and ceiling, twinkling chandeliers, and painted flower decorations over doors and wall inlays. Only three other tables were occupied when they were led to a table by the window and took their seats in the berry-coloured upholstery of padded dining room chairs. The light was a little dimmer where they sat, and the waiter lit the white candle that sat in a glass holder in the middle of their table before he recommended an aperitif.

They were halfway through their Kir Royal when the waiter returned with a small basket of bread and an _amuse gueule,_ and started presenting the chef’s specials. Phichit barely tasted any of the no doubt delicious bite-sized grilled shrimp in mango mousse that was served on a silver spoon. He was watching Chris. Coming alive the moment he heard the words “local suppliers” and “animal friendly”. It was just as well that there were barely any other guests because Chris was in a lively conversation with the waiter for much longer than was necessary to take their orders.

“Did you see all the other sustainability things they do?” Phichit asked when the waiter withdrew.

Chris hummed, and buttered a slice of bread. “Mickey’s a smug bastard, he knew exactly where he was sending me.”

“He knows you well.” Phichit leaned back in his seat, twisting the stem of his glass in his hand. “I’ve always wondered, whenever Sara told her stories, what it must be like to grow up with your best friend.”

“Similar to growing up with siblings, perhaps?” Chris looked at him and ate a piece of bread.

“Yeah, but my siblings and I fought a lot, too,” Phichit said. “About smallest shit.”

Chris swallowed and laughed. “So did Victor and I. We fought at least as much as Mickey and Sara, if not more. It drove Yakov and Lilia mad when we were fought, I mean, properly. Physically. Afterwards we would sit there, often enough bruised and scratched, and bawl our eyes our because we were so sorry for hurting each other.”

“I cannot see Victor fighting,” Phichit grinned. “I see the guy crying over Bollywood movies every Friday.”

“Oh, he does. And he fights dirty.” Chris smirked and popped another piece of bread in his mouth.

Dinner passed with talks about childhood friends and foes, and stories Phichit shared about growing up with three siblings and a house full of chattering Thai women in which he _had_ to talk more in order to be heard. He could feel a sense of loneliness lurking even in Chris’ stories, and his heart went out to the boy he must have been and that Phichit could still see in him whenever he allowed his mask of smooth businessman to slip. There was still insecurity, and what Phichit believed was a genuine fear of being himself for constant fear of himself not being what others wanted him to be.

It was later than anticipated by the time Chris placed this credit card in a leather folder and handed it to the maître d’. Phichit looked out the window for a moment, at the orange lights of the hotel glowing in the winter night. Somewhere in that darkness he knew where the mountains, even though they were hidden by dark velvet skies now. He felt that happy, pleasant feeling that good food and good conversation are able to drape around one like a warm, comfortable blanket.

“Thank you for dinner,” Phichit said when Chris had put his credit card back in his wallet and just before they got up to go.

“You’re very welcome.” Chris held his gaze for a moment. His eyes looked dark in the light of the one candle burning much lower between them now.

They walked to their room side by side, shoulders brushing from time to time. It was in the bright light of the lift that Phichit became acutely aware of what the subdued restaurant lighting had hidden quite well. The shadows under the green eyes. Chris was tired. Not from the long day. From so much more.

“Oh my god!” Phichit kicked off his shoes and slumped down on the sofa the moment they came back into the suite. “That was so good, but I’m exhausted now.”

“It was a long day,” Chris agreed. “Can I convince you of a nightcap?”

He took the armchair, and Phichit watched the stretch of his legs as he raised them onto the matching leather stool that belonged to the armchair, the play of calf muscles where black suits pants clung tight as he bent one leg on the edge of the stool and pushed it out with the other to accommodate his legs.

Suddenly Phichit’s mouth felt very dry, and a nightcap sounded like a brilliant idea.

He eyed the tray on the table in front of them, heard Chris ask, “So what’s your poison?” as he followed his gaze.

There was bottle of gin, vodka and Scotch each, and only of them that was to Phichit’s taste.

He was still leaning forward and reaching for the bottle when he already heard a low sound of approval from Chris.

“It reminds me of my father.” Phichit explained without looking up as he unscrewed the bottle and poured two fingers’ width of golden brown single malt into one of the tumblers from the tray. “Scotch whisky does. He likes to serve it to people who come to speak to him in his home office.”

He handed Chris the tumbler and poured some for himself. The bottle made a faint thumping sound when he replaced it on the wooden tray. Phichit slid up to the very corner of the sofa and tucked his legs up under himself, reaching over to where Chris was already holding out his glass in a toast.

“To Dr. Chulanont,” he smiled. Phichit chose to laugh, rather than show what strings this small gesture had touched deep down inside him.

“The most renowned cardiologist and karaoke king in all of Bangkok.”

Chris’ eyebrows shot up. Phichit laughed harder.

“It’s true,” he said, while he cupped both hands tight around the bottom and walls of the glass to warm it up. “When he’s not working, my dad leads a secret double life as a passionate karaoke singer. Bruno Mars songs are his forte.”

He stopped laughing when he placed one hand over his glass and gave it just the faintest shake, before he held it up to his nose and inhaled, mouth slightly open so the alcohol wouldn’t make his nose feel like busting. His eyes closed when the sharp, oaky aroma hit him and, strangely enough, made him think of home, when he had sneaked into his father’s office and sniffed at the bottles that were forbidden to him and his siblings until they were of age.

“You know your whisky,” Chris commented with unmasked approval.

“My father raised me well,” Phichit said, and felt himself flush crimson immediately. All this time he had avoided this minefield, and then a swim in a fancy pool and a spectacular dinner made him slip. “I’m sorry!”

“Phichit…” Chris settled back more comfortably in the armchair. He swirled the whisky gently in his glass, watching it for a moment before he brought it to his face and took a sniff, too. He looked at Phichit over the brim.

“My father is not a forbidden topic, you know. He’s not one of my favourite topics, granted, but we can talk about our fathers. I’m glad yours raised you well. I wish I could say the same about mine, but it is what it is.”

He shrugged, noncommittally, before he took a first tentative sip from his glass.

Phichit nodded faintly and followed suit. The first sip was always the best. The slow burn working its way past his lips and on his tongue, all the way down his throat, filled him with instant warmth and lingered with the happiest tingle on his lips. It felt just right to say what he suddenly wanted to get off his chest.

“I told him, by the way.” Phichit swallowed hard. “About you.”

If Chris felt unsettled by it he didn’t show it. Instead, he looked curious.

“I needed to talk to someone, the night I sprang my feelings on you,” Phichit explained. “I was way too excited to think straight.”

“I noticed.” Chris drank another sip. “I was pretty worried when you just jumped up and ran out like a headless chicken.”

“Sorry.” Phichit grimaced. “My father reckons I always speak first and then get scared of my own courage.”

“I’m glad you did. Speak, I mean.”

Phichit nearly dropped his glass. The air was tense and heavy for a moment, and every time their eyes met Phichit felt like he was being pulled under by a fierce and raging torrent. Carefully, he steered the conversation on safer grounds. Brought up the next day and what they wanted to do. He was glad when Chris went along with it and they fell back to the easy conversation that had seen them through dinner. When Chris put his empty glass next to the large vase on the small table between them and announced he would head to the bathroom first if that was okay, Phichit nodded. There was still some whisky left in his tumbler, and he stretched himself out on the couch when he heard the shower running, his hair rustling on the sofa cushion behind his head, as he drank in small, appreciative sips and checked his phone. He sent a message to his father with some photos attached he had snapped of the suite and dinner, plus a new one he quickly snapped of the whisky bottle and his glass beside it. Then he smiled his way through Victor’s latest Instagram posts and one story, although he couldn’t believe that they had actually gone ice-skating, of all things.

“Happy birthday, Yuuri,” Phichit said quietly and raised his glass to his phone screen and a very rare picture Yuuri had allowed Victor to post of him. “I hope you’re having the best birthday of your life so far.”

He was close to dozing off, wrapped up by the warmth from the heating and the whisky inside him when the bathroom door opened and Chris walked out in one of the hotel towel robes, rubbing his hair with a towel.

“Okay, bathroom’s yours,” he said and disappeared on the other side of the rounded wall again.

Yawning, Phichit slipped off the couch. He switched off the lights in the living room area before he grabbed his sleepwear from his suitcase and went into the bathroom.

Phichit nearly choked on a breath full of foamy toothpaste when he spotted the cosmetics lined up by the marble sink that were not the hotel’s but Chris’. He reined in his impatience until he had finished brushing his teeth and dried his hands before he picked up the perfume bottle. House of Creed. Of course. No wonder he had never come across this before. A part of him quietly wept inside when he ran his fingers over the logo on the bottle. He knew this bottle didn’t come under 300 dollars, and it was a seasonal scent too. Who knew what else Chris had on his bathroom counter at home, but he hoped he would find out soon. Then he mentally kicked himself and put the perfume flacon down again carefully. It was _not_ shallow. This was not about the money, he reminded himself. He merely appreciated someone who appreciated pretty, shiny things as much as he did.

Chris was in bed, reading something on his phone when Phichit came out of the bathroom. He was wearing pyjama bottoms in the unmistakable Burberry plaid and a plain black T-shirt, and he had exchanged his contacts for glasses. The fluffy edelweiss cover was throw over the zebra chair, and the blankets – two, thank god, Phichit noted – were still neatly in place, Chris’ only denting where he sat on top of it.

He looked up briefly when Phichit tugged the blanket out from where it was folded under the mattress on his side and slid between the covers.

“Comfy?” he asked, a small smile curling around his lips and his eyes.

“Mhmmm…” Phichit sighed into the pillow for a moment. He sat up again and boxed the two pillows into shape, then reached for the switches to turn off the lights on his side before he snuggled back into the pillows, blanket pulled all the way up to his chin. “Sorry. Asian,” he said, only his face peeking out between pillow and blanket. “I’m cold in European winter.”

Chris chuckled. “I did not suspect you of anything else. Like being timid for example.”

“Yeah, right.” Phichit grinned.

“Is it okay if I still check some emails? The Canadians are up now.” Chris lifted his phone slightly like an apology.

“Sure.” Phichit yawned and remembered just in time to cover his mouth. “Is it okay if I go to sleep?”

“Of course.” Smiling, Chris reached to his left and switched off all the lights on his side of the bed except for one small spotlight that he dimmed down, too. “Is this too bright?”

Phichit shook his head, making the sheets rustle with the movement. “Once I sleep, I sleep.”

Chris acknowledged it with a faint nod and a smile, and a smooth “Goodnight, Phichit.”

“Goodnight.” He thought he could feel Chris’ eyes on him, watching him for the endless short moment it took him to fall asleep.

Phichit woke up first the next morning. There was a faint brightness shimmering even through drawn curtains that made him swing his legs out of bed and curiously hurry over to the nearest window and peep outside.

Snow.

Over night it had started to snow and turned the mountains and the surrounding landscape into a winter wonderland. Phichit was filled with childish excitement, only more so. Having grown up knowing snow only from pictures or TV, he was living. He turned around to look over towards the bed.

Chris was sleeping on his side, the one facing Phichit. Phichit hadn’t even noticed properly when he got up, fascinated as he was by the light. He tip-toed closer to the bed and watched him for a moment, the blanket down by his waist and his arms drawn up and folded under his face. Everything inside Phichit screamed to take a picture of him, vulnerable and soft as he was right now. But it felt intimate in a way Phichit thought might be too early.

He walked over to his suitcase instead and grabbed a warm sweater and some socks, eyes always on Chris for fear he would wake him, then he went to find his shoes and phone. He opened the door out to the small sun loggia that belonged to their suite very carefully and crept outside to take some photos.

By the time Chris woke up, sitting up in bed with his hair like a plucked blond birds’ nest on his head like a crown, Phichit was already showered and dressed, sitting at the foot of the bed looking through the photos he had taken.

“Morning…”

Phichit swung around at the sound of the raspy deep voice.

“Good morning.” He grinned, watching Chris reach for his glasses from the bedside table and putting them on. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know if you wanted me to wake you up, but you looked so tired last night, I thought you need your sleep.”

“Nah, it’s fine.” Chris hid a yawn behind one hand, then he blinked a couple of times and took in Phichit’s attire. “You’re all ready. Going somewhere?” He winked.

“No.” Phichit jumped up. “It’s started snowing overnight. I got excited. Look!”

He hurried over to the opposite window, glad that Chris was awake now so he could finally draw back the curtain to the breathtaking view. He knew he was probably just one step away from an overexcited kid let loose in a toy store or sweets shop, but he couldn’t help himself. Chris got out of bed and came over to him. He was still warm from sleep, Phichit noticed. He _smelt_ warm, too, like skin just slipped out from under a blanket and a remnant of elegant perfume. Phichit was almost glad when Chris stepped past him and opened the door to the loggia to let in the crisp, winter air. It was snowing again now, softest flakes dancing in a light yet freezing breeze until they fell onto the loggia ground.

Phichit was glad he was dressed, but watched in awe how Chris didn’t seem to mind the cold and stood in the open door, barefoot and in his short-sleeved T-shirt and stared wistfully, almost longingly out at the snow-covered mountains while he took deep, calming breaths. It was so quiet. So serene. Phichit walked over to the other side of the room where he had already filled water into the Nespresso machine that sat on the dining table. He slipped in what he had researched was the fanciest in the assortment of coloured coffee capsules the hotel provided.

By the time he came back to the window with two cups of steaming coffee, Chris had taken a step outside like he was infallibly drawn into the silent, white world around them.

“Sorry.” He smiled a little sheepishly when he turned around. “I’m a winter child. Thank you.”

He took the cup Phichit held out to him with a gracious nod.

Phichit leaned back against the frame of the opened door and blew on his own coffee cup.

“I never saw snow until about four years ago,” he admitted. “I still turn into an overexcited puppy when I see snow, I feel I should warn you about that.”

“Cute.” Chris didn’t look at him when he said it. He just smiled wistfully over the brim of his cup and looked at the mountains, but Phichit could still feel that he had his full attention. He was glad he was at least looking the other way, because his face momentarily took on the colour of a tomato which clashed horribly with his complexion.

“How about we order breakfast up to our room?” Chris suggested when he turned around and came back inside. “We’ll be in the spa pretty much all day anyway, so I don’t need to get dressed.”

“Exhibitionist streak, Christophe?” Phichit grinned.

“That a problem, Phichit?” Chris got on board with the joke, and suddenly Phichit wasn’t quite so sure anymore about his own cockiness.

“I’d need to see about that.” Phichit let his eyebrows do their thing, then nodded at the telephone. “Breakfast?”

“But of course.”

Chris called the restaurant to order a selection from the breakfast buffet, frowning at Phichit time and again who kept pointing at things on the menu and nodding enthusiastically when Chris added them to the order.

Unsurprisingly, Chris tipped generously when their food arrived and had been set out on the dining room table, and the waiter withdrew with an indicated bow. They had drawn back the curtains from all the windows now, the reflection of morning sun on glistening snow brighter than any artificial or normal daylight could possibly have been. Outside near the mountains, they could see a ski lift, the rounded capsules standing still and swaying gently whenever a gust of wind hurried by.

“You were probably able to ski before you could even walk, weren’t you?” Phichit picked up a lonely blueberry that had been a decoration to his pancakes with his fork and ate it.

Chris nodded, eyes on the view while he nursed another cup of coffee.

“My parents dragged me to Zermatt twice every year. I actually did like skiing, but the best part about it was that I got to see Mickey and Sara after they had moved to Italy. It’s still their best friend thing, skiing in Zermatt. My father and Sara and Mickey’s, I mean.”

“I have never tried it.” Phichit looked over the food choices on the table until he decided on some salami and a slice of dark, rustic bread. “I’ve tried a lot of things, but for some reason snowball fights and snow angels are still my only strengths at winter sports.”

He was glad when he saw a small smile flit across Chris’ face and turned his attention back to his plate and cutting his salami bread into mouth-sized pieces.

“We could come back for skiing someday.”

Phichit looked up at him. That would mean Chris was thinking long term. Something flipped over inside his stomach, and he was pretty sure it wasn’t the pancake he’d just eaten.

“I’d love that,” he finally replied. “I mean… I’d probably be stuck with the kiddies’ class for the longest time and eventually give up and resort to making snow angels, but at least those would be fantastic in case my skiing skills refuse to be unearthed.”

“You look like snowboarding could be right up your alley.” Chris looked at him now, his head slightly cocked.

“That’s what Leo keeps telling me.” And suddenly Phichit longed to fast-forward time, to a day when he wouldn’t feel the need to hide. He wanted to know that there was a time in the future when Chris would be a part of his usual group of trusted people. Someone who would talk to his friends like an equal. It was overwhelming, this sudden urge to have Chris talk to Leo about snowboarding. He reached for his coffee and took a big gulp, almost desperate to wash this feeling down. He wasn’t ready.

“So what are we going to do today?” he asked, suddenly eager to change the subject. Nerves tingled just under his scalp, worrying him that he was too jittery, too non-committal. Too scared.

Luckily, Chris smiled. “Laze around in the spa and get pampered until it’s dinner time.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Phichit felt himself relax again.

They finished their breakfast in comfortable silence, took turns in the shower, and set out in nothing but in their towel robes over swimming trunks. Chris mentioned how he needed to check with the spa receptionists about some massage Mickey had booked but that he had forgotten the details about.

“Or _I_ could give you a massage,” Phichit said and waited with held breath for one of the typical questions or comments that usually followed at this moment.

None came. Instead, Chris started talking about the spa suite Mickey had mentioned.

“You didn’t walk right into that one.” Phichit side-eyed him as they turned a corner to walk down another corridor towards the spa area, their feet making no sound on the carpet in the soft slippers provided by the hotel.

“No. Although I did wonder how many sleazy remarks about Thai massages you’ve had to listen to whenever you said those very words.”

“You wouldn’t want to know,” Phichit muttered, but as he walked into the reception area of the spa and was instantly engulfed by soft, relaxing music and some fresh, aromatic scent spiked with a tad of burnt scented wood from a sauna somewhere, he felt very, very glad about all the words Chris had not said but many others had before.

It was a lazy, quiet day. Mickey had booked a private spa suite for several hours and they just lay in the whirlpool, chins placed on arms resting on the edge of the pool while they looked out into the sky through the window and watched the snow falling. They had a massage that was so relaxing that Chris fell asleep on the stretcher and Phichit had to gently shake him awake. They went swimming and afterwards rested on heated metal loungers that made them sleepy so that they got up and went back into the pool. When Chris announced that he was going to the sauna and steam bath, Phichit made a dismissive hand gesture.

“I grew up in Bangkok,” he said. “I’ve sweated enough for a whole lifetime.”

They both laughed.

“I’ll just be lazing around here one of those comfortable lounge chairs drinking fruit concoctions.” Phichit made a wide movement with one arm that took in the greater lounge area.

“I’ll come back here then.” Chris nodded and grabbed the extra towel he had gotten from reception.

Phichit saw him off with a little wave of his hand and ordered a drink at the bar before he found himself a lounger by a window and snuggled down in his towel robe. It was a little too big on him, but it was warm and soft, and soon he was stretched out comfortably with this back raised by the adjustable head rest, just high enough that he could sip his drink without spilling it all over himself and look up from his phone and out the window time and again.

By the time Chris came back and sat down on the lounger right next to Phichit’s, his skin looked rosy and his hair an absolute disaster. It was way into the afternoon already, and Phichit stretched with his arms high over his head. He was beginning to feel hungry, but he also wanted to just lie in the whirlpool again for another two weeks.

“So should I book a table for dinner again?” Chris asked.

“Actually…” Phichit put down his empty glass on the little side table. “You don’t have to buy me dinner two nights in a row. It was amazing, don’t get me wrong. But there’s something I’d actually like to do instead. You might think it’s ridiculous though.”

“I doubt it.” Chris leaned forward, elbows on his knees, hands knitted together. “Tell me.”

“Okay.” Phichit sat up and inched a little closer to the edge of his lounger too. “Here’s what Yuuri and I would do, and which I really love when I travel. We find a grocery store and buy all kinds of food. Like a mix of junk food and local delicatessen, and drinks too, and then we have a hotel room feast.”

For a moment Chris stared at him. “Yuuri does that that?”

“Yeah.” Phichit grinned. “I probably would have just gotten some fast food from the nearest greasy place if Yuuri hadn’t dragged me to a supermarket.”

“Supermarket?”

“Yeah. Or any dingy little grocery store or bakery we can find nearby.”

Chris started laughing. After a moment he coughed, tried to get himself under control, while he wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand. “I’m sorry,” he finally managed to wheeze out. “I’m not laughing at you, I swear, I just… I mean, can you _see_ Victor’s _face_?”

And suddenly Phichit had to laugh too. Victor, who he knew drove Yuuri nuts when they were grocery shopping with all the fancy food he heaped into the cart from the delicatessen aisle like the rest of the supermarket didn’t exist for him. Victor, who Yuuri had told him had frowned at the mere idea of ordering pizza from one of the normal flyers piling up in Yuuri’s kitchen. Victor had probably never had a hotel room feast in his life. Phichit would pay good money to be present when Yuuri first sprang this suggestion on him.

“Oh my god, actually I _can_! Maybe Yuuri is suggesting it right at this very moment in Milan.”

They cracked up, laughed until they had tears in their eyes.

“Victor is a lucky man,” Phichit finally said. “You should see Yuuri shopping, he’s like a track hound finding the really good stuff. And…” A shadow flitted across his face for a moment, only to be replaced with hope. “Yuuri is so good at preparing food, he’ll turn simple supermarket food into a three-course-meal.”

He stopped himself, not wanting to go to that place yet where the sentences start with “I can’t wait until…”

“Let’s do that.” Chris looked straight at him. “Can’t let Victor have hotel room feasts when I don’t.”

Phichit’s smile was immediate. Then he remembered what leaving the hotel would entitle and groaned. “Does it mean I have to get changed? Can’t I just go out like this?”

“No. You’re cold in European winter.”

“One more go in the whirlpool first?” Phichit asked hopefully.

“Absolutely.”

One go became two and a swim, and by the time they were back in their room, showered, dressed and their hair dried, it was late afternoon and the sun already sinking over the mountains. There was only one street near the hotel, and they walked slowly, peeking into every window. There was the obligatory souvenir shop selling Swiss army knives and watches and cowbells in all sizes. Jewellers. Chocolate shops. Their hands brushed several times between them without them doing anything about it, not even pull them back.

They found a small supermarket, almost deserted one hour before closing time, and bought all kinds of cheese and bread, small salads and antipasti, and chocolate for dessert.

It was snowing again by the time they left the supermarket. Some of the lights were out in windows they had looked in not half an hour ago. There was the odd trace of someone’s boots in the snow leading nowhere they could see, but at this moment they were the only people outside. Phichit pulled up the hood of his coat as they made their way back on the other side of the street. It was easy to imagine they were all alone in the world. Thick, heavy snowflakes draped a blanket of silence over everything, and their feet sank into the high layer of white on the uncleared pavement almost without a sound. Somewhere a dog barked, the sound so unexpected that they both looked up, almost surprised to find that there should be another living being around but them. In a shop window full of Christmas ornaments Phichit marvelled at some of the decorations. They would have been great gifts for his family, but the small store was already closed. For a moment he caught his reflection in the window, his face peeking out from between his warm wool scarf and the faux fur brim of his hood all around his head, nose and cheeks coloured by cold and his hair flopping into his forehead. He looked cute, even though he couldn’t have said whether cute was what he wanted right here and now, while he knew it was what he had to offer.

A lone car came slowly up the street and they paused under a street light to let it pass. Phichit looked up and their eyes met. They were still standing there when the car had disappeared around a bend at the end of the street.

Somewhere inside him Phichit felt his breath catch, ice turning into fire. He looked, and what he saw was just Christophe. Tall and seemingly calm outside, while the snow fell relentlessly on his hair and shoulders. In the romantic orange light of the street light they were under, Phichit watched a snowflake melt on Chris’ lips for the longest time. He could see what Chris felt inside. It was his own doing, Phichit knew. He had made this Chris. He could see it in his eyes, and in the way he stood just facing him, looking back at him, so still that the tension and restraint was palpable and made Phichit swallow hard and his heart dance a million reels and jigs until it was breathless for him. He could feel it in every small white cloud that furled into existence between them with every breath they took in the cold winter night.

“In case you’re waiting for the perfect moment to kiss me - this is it.”

Chris’ eyes widened and then softened at Phichit’s words. And Phichit watched himself, watched them, undo it all again, everything he had brought about. The power to be able to do so made him weak. He watched it fall off of Chris, the weight of holding himself back, trying to be the perfect gentleman, when all he wanted to do was put down the bag of groceries he was carrying and cup the face peeking out from the fur hood and kiss Phichit in the light of a street lantern in the softly falling snow.

It was perfect. Their mouths capturing each other, the first contact of soft, snow-kissed lips that almost instantly gave way to the first electrifying touch of tongues that set fire to the winter night. Phichit rose up on his toes, and his arms shot up to Chris’ shoulders, both for support and to move in closer, his hands gripping the thick material and melting the snowflakes settled there. He moved one of his hands up into Chris’ hair, fingers fisting in damp blond curls to bring his face closer and his kiss deeper. The scratch of Chris’ perfectly groomed beard was just the right kind of noticeable, the right kind of pleasant against Phichit’s skin. He tasted of champagne and the echo of a cigarette of many hours ago and him, and Phichit felt a ridiculous wish to pat his own shoulder, congratulate himself on choosing well all those months ago when he knew that he liked him, of all people, and couldn’t possibly have known that this kiss right here, right now would ever happen. He felt turned onto his head and shaken and then turned the right way around again, like they were figures in a snow globe that someone had picked up and tipped over and put back, only wrong felt right now and right felt right, too.

They smiled when they came apart, happiness erupting in softest, smooth laughter for a moment, that deep low chuckle Phichit wanted to wrap himself in and never give back. Time stretched into something eternal and they remained like this, close together in his warmly lit, quiet window of time. Until another car caught them in its headlights, and the barking of a dog, much closer now where it was walked on the other side of the street, tore a crack in the dome of what felt like their very own snow globe and reminded them that there was a place to go back to, food to be eaten.

Their hands brushed between them once again as they made their way back to the hotel. This time Phichit grabbed Chris’ hand with his own and wound his fingers tightly around his. They didn’t look at each other, just straight ahead at the snow-covered path in front of them, barely subdued smiles on their faces.

Back in their suite they put out all the food on the table by the sofa and had their hotel room feast while watching some quiz show on TV, guessing along and shouting at the screen whenever a candidate got an answer wrong and they knew the correct one. Phichit felt as at home as he would have with Yuuri. If it hadn’t been for the way his heart skipped every time their hands touched accidentally when they reached for the same thing. The first time he leaned against Chris’ side, unplanned and out of a sudden feeling of comfort, made him freeze and shoot forward for a moment when he realised what he was doing. Then, without a word or a glance, he settled back into the warmth seeping through Chris’ sweater. A little while later, he felt Chris’ arm very casually around his shoulder. Eyes fixed on the TV screen, Phichit grinned around a nougat praline.

They talked for a long time, lying on their sides of the bed, facing each other with their arms bent under their heads, all lights off except for the faint glow of the hotel lights creeping in through the windows where they had not drawn the curtains to let the glistening magic of the snow inside unfiltered. It was Phichit who leaned over for a goodnight kiss, before they each went to sleep on their side of the bed, the smile on the other’s face the last thing they saw.

Sunday morning started early, but they both craved another swim in the pool and another half hour of just lounging around in the whirlpool they had come to love so well. They sat a little closer together this time, the brushing of wet limbs in the warm swirling torrents not quite so accidental any more. For a long spell of time Phichit’s head rested against Chris shoulder while they just looked out the window.

They checked out after breakfast and left their luggage at reception as they went for another walk and Phichit took photos. He would have taken them anyway, he knew, not just for an alibi assignment he had told Leo and Guang Hong he was going to spend this weekend on. He couldn’t resist making a snow angel either. Chris refused, but he was happy to take pictures.

By the time they got into the limousine back to the airport they sheepishly apologised for the state of the coats they had to put on the seats. They were soaked from an impromptu snowball fight, and their sides ached from laughing so hard. Phichit was about three hundred per cent sure that the moment when his first snowball hit Chris in the back, that short, tense span of time in which Chris turned around and gave him a glare of utter disbelief and a stunned “What the fuck... was that _you_?!” before he bent down to grab two handfuls of snow himself, that moment when their eyes met _just_ before they burst out laughing, would remain one of his favourite memories of the whole weekend. It was quiet in the car to the airport, both of them pouring over their phones without the pressure of expected conversation. They sat closer together than they had on the way here, bodies subconsciously turned more towards each other.

There was one more kiss in Chris’ garage before Phichit got into his car, lingering, storing feelings and impressions, their fingers entangled and squeezing by their sides, and the quiet request for a text to let him know he was home safely. Phichit promised he would send it.

He made it home just in time before Yuuri was expected back. Phichit dropped his suitcase in his apartment and texted Chris, grabbed the present he had wrapped on Thursday evening and left again, his coat hanging damp over the back of a chair he’d pulled just so close to the heating that it wasn’t a fire hazard.

Next door in Yuuri’s apartment, Leo was in the middle of arranging presents on the coffee table in front of the couch and trying to keep three nosy dogs away from them while in Yuuri’s kitchen, Guang Hong placed small candles on top of a birthday cake with great care.

“Hi Peach,” he greeted him cheerfully. “How was your photo assignment?”

“Great.” Phichit thought of the photos he had taken only this morning. “So much snow up there.”

Guang Hong nodded as he kept adding the small, striped birthday candles in their flower-shaped holders.

Yuuri flushed bright red when he walked through the door with Victor in tow and found his best friends waiting with a cake and a pile of presents, singing to him even though his birthday had been two days ago. He claimed that they were crazy, while it was obvious that he was beyond happy.

When they were face to face, Yuuri smiled so brightly at him that Phichit felt his heart close to combusting in his chest with affection and guilty conscience. He flung his arms around Yuuri and they clung to each other tight for a very long moment, hands rubbing over backs.

“Happy birthday!” Phichit finally leaned back, his hands on Yuuri’s upper arms. Suddenly he felt overwhelmed by emotions. “I wish you all the good things in the world, Yuuri, you so deserve them! You’re the best friend in the world. I love you so much!”

“Peach…” Yuuri breathed, glasses crooked on his nose after their embrace and his hair sticking up in all directions. One of his eyebrows climbed just the tiniest bit higher. “You look _really_ happy.”

“Can a man not be happy and celebrate his best friend on his birthday?” Phichit grinned and thumped Yuuri’s arm lightly. Yuuri shook his head, but he leaned in for another hug, holding on very tight.

It was a short Sunday evening celebration that everyone agreed would be redone properly when they didn’t have to go to work the next morning. Just hugs and presents, singing and a slice of cake. Yuuri claimed it was all he needed.

Phichit was back in his apartment one hour after Yuuri’s return. It seemed smaller after his weekend away. It always did when he came back from a trip. It always felt weird having to go to bed alone when someone had been there to talk to just this morning when he woke up.

In bed, he typed a message into his phone: _Thank you for this weekend. I had the best time._

The reply was prompt.

_Thank you for coming. I had the best time, too._

Phichit fell asleep smiling, holding the sensations of the weekend close while he hoped he wasn’t the only one doing so.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“Wow…” Phichit said when he arrived at work the next morning and saw Sara’s face. “I know Mondays are not your friend but this face looks a little scary.”

“This is my ‘When your godfather is being an arsehole’ face,” Sara said with the temper of ten Italian women who had caught the men in their lives in the act of something really stupid.

“Your godfather?” Phichit asked and slowly lifted his laptop bag over his head before he placed it on his desk and started unbuttoning his coat. A slight tingle of irritation started in the nape of his neck and he slipped his coat off very slowly as if that could make it go away. Her godfather. Chris’ father.

“What’s going on?” he asked, a little alarmed now. Sara being in such a mood meant trouble, he knew. Dread pooled in his stomach, and his thoughts immediately shot up three floors to where he knew Chris would be behind his desk already.

“He gave an interview.” Sara snapped. “It’s not very supportive of Chris.”

“Not very supportive.” Yura looked up with a huff. He hated Monday mornings even more than Sara did and had been huddling over his desk with his hood pulled deep into his face. He sat up straight now and turned his laptop screen towards Phichit. “He’s slagging him off in public.”

Tense, Phichit sank down on his chair and pulled Yura’s laptop closer towards him. On the screen was an interview Chris father had given to one of the leading business magazines in the country.

Phichit started to read. Every world made bile rise in his throat.

_“He did what I expected of him, in an adequate way. I certainly would have done things differently, but at the end of the day what matters is that the company I founded with my good friend was saved.”_

**_“Mr. Giacometti, when you say your son saved the company in an adequate way - what is it, in your opinion, that he should have done differently?”_ **

_“He waited too long to make important decisions. Up until the last minute he hesitated to let people go. It’s painful for every company when that happens but sometimes one has to accept a smaller loss for a greater good. He is a bit too soft-hearted in this respect, always has been.”_

_“Sometimes I think I should have stayed on some years longer before I retired and let my son take over. I believe I could have taught him better, taught him more.”_

The words began to swim a little before Phichit’s eyes. He hadn’t reckoned with this. He hadn’t reckoned with feeling so connected already that felt the anger and the hurt as acutely as if it was dripping down three floors, a fire of feelings burning a hole through the floors, and all Phichit wanted to run upstairs and just be there. For him.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

On the top floor in his office, Chris was leaning with both hands braced on his desk. Breathing aggressively through his teeth, he tried to rein in the fiery rage surging through his veins since he had read his father’s interview. He refused. He simply refused to be that person his father talked about. He owed it to too many people not to be that man. He owed it to every person whose job he and Victor and Sara and Mickey had saved, every person his father believed would have been better off unemployed now. He owed it to his best friends and business partners, and to everyone who had faith in him.

Most of all, he owed it to himself.

With every slowing breath he pulled into his lungs, Chris felt a little calmer. Colder. Until his heartbeat had returned to a normal ratio, his breath to a barely noticeable rise and fall of his chest. He raised his head, jaw set with grim determination, the fire now flickering in his eyes.

If his father wanted a fight, he would give him one.


	5. Titanium

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the delay! I had another hell week at work with a big project I was in charge of, and it took almost all week. I feel bad about not being able to do my usual update on Friday evening, but as usual, I didn't want to drop a shitty chapter on you. Also, please excuse any typos I might have overlooked, I was still writing way into the night. 😰
> 
> My big work thing is done now and I have a couple of days off, so I'm going to dive straight into replying to comments. I love you all! 💞
> 
> Thank you all for your patience and your love for these two.
> 
> I come with some Chris POV today. Hope you like. xxx

**5 - Titanium**

Chris sat at his desk and let his gaze wander over the iPad screen once more. Every word was like a new cut opening up the old ones, the scars of which had never really healed. If he tried hard enough, he could convince himself that it didn’t hurt. Not anymore. Not as much as the last time. If he thought of the past weekend he even felt like the scars started to pale a little.

He took another deep breath, then leaned forward and pressed the speed dial for his outer-office.

“Yuuri,” he said as soon as it picked up. “Can you please ask Sara and her team to come up here? I want to give a press conference.”

He leaned back in his chair and reached for his cigarettes automatically, took one from the pack and had already put it between his lips when he faltered. Playing the silver lighter between his fingers, he stared at the intricately wound letters C and G that were engraved into the case for the longest time. Just a few elegant curves carved into metal, and yet they stood for so much that it suddenly became unbearable and he threw the lighter against the opposite wall and yanked the unlit cigarette from between his lips and tossed it on his desk. It landed on the iPad screen, covering some of his father’s words. Chris shoved the pack of cigarettes out of sight in one of his desk drawers and slammed it shut with more force than necessary. He pushed the iPad away from him, wishing it was always this easy to just push away his father, and lowered his head on his arm, crossed on his desk in front of him.

The moment he closed his eyes he was back there. Felt the warmth of the whirlpool torrents tug and shove at his body, and yet it was the slide of a wet calf against his own that made him feel like he was being pulled under. He heard a voice, sounding so young and so challenging as it echoed from the tiles of a deserted swimming pool area. He was back in that street and felt like they were all alone in the world, just him and this face looking back at him from this ridiculously cute brim of faux fur. Just him and someone who wanted to be in his company for reasons he had long forgotten because they had never mattered before. Someone who had the power to make the world disappear around them and boil it down to just the two of them, concentrated and potent and strong.

Chris felt the smoothness of his suit against his forehead and heard his own breath in the small confinement of where he folded his arms.

And he felt it again, the same pull of that night, the same yearning straining against the confines of a promise he had given, his whole being fighting the reigns he had handed over to someone else. He wanted to touch, and he wanted to be allowed to, wanted to bring his hands up to this face that looked so soft and warm and tempting, to _him_ , who so loved winter. He heard the laughter, and the voice that was able to say his full name in a way that did not hurt, and he felt the kiss, liquid fire burning a swath of destruction through all his defences. How eyes that were of such a dark grey could sparkle with so much light and warmth was beyond him, all he knew was that they made something begin to melt inside him, and he liked it. He liked it so much.

“Chris.”

He looked up at the sound of the voice. Victor was standing inside his office, leaning with his back against the closed door.

“Sara’s here.”

Chris nodded and rose from his seat. The moves came instinctively, his shoulders straightening like he was going into a difficult meeting. He was reaching for the door handle when Victor’s hand came down on his arm and stopped him.

“How are you _really_?” he asked. There were no pretensions between them. There was no need.

His facial expression must have given something away for the next thing he knew was that Victor’s arms came around him and he was holding on to his best friend too, drawing strength from the familiar figure clinging to him so tight as if he wanted to transfer his strength over to him like they had pretended to do when they were young boys playing superheroes. Chris heard his own breath, heavy and irregular, drawing comfort and reassurance from Victor like he was sucking life out of him with his permission.

“It’s a whole load of bollocks.” Victor’s voice was firm just beside his ear. “You know he’s wrong.”

Do I? Chris thought, but he didn’t want to let Victor down. Never Victor.

“We all know he’s wrong, even if you can’t see it yet.” They eased on their embrace, moved the slightest bit away from each other but hands held on, to shoulders, to arms. “Sara is livid. She was talking to Massimo on her phone when she walked in and I have never heard her fit so many ‘stronzos’ in one sentence as I have today.”

A weak smile appeared on Chris’ face, and was mirrored by Victor.

One of Victor’s hands came up to Chris’ arm and gave a squeeze as if for emphasis. “You did amazing during the crisis. He wasn’t there. He didn’t see you, and he didn’t see us. He doesn’t know our employees because they are not his anymore. They are ours. You did us proud. Whatever he says.”

Chris took a deep breath. It sounded shaky.

“I know,” he said at last. “And _he’s_ going to know, too.”

Victor’s smile became wolfish, and more than a little proud. “I think your balls have grown back.”

“Want to cop a feel and see if you’re right, _mon cher_?” Chris grinned.

“In your wildest dreams, darling.”

Victor squeezed Chris’ biceps once more for reassurance before he opened the door and they walked out into the reception area, shoulders squared and faces set, resolute smirks in the corners of their mouths that would have made people step out of their way if there had been any in their path to the conference room.

Sara and her team were waiting at the conference table, her face an absolute storm. The moment Chris walked in she gave him a brief summary of the very hefty message she had asked her father to convey to his best friend because she didn’t trust herself to be able to form coherent words if she did it herself. Chris felt his face soften at her passionate declaration. She had always been this protective of whom and what she considered hers, whether it was some other child using their scoop in the sandpit without asking permission, or whether some other girl wanted to ask one of them to the school disco.

He felt the gaze from dark eyes right next to Sara like a caress, and it cost him some willpower to keep up an all professional face when a part of him couldn’t stop thinking about how this time just the day before they had sat side by side in a whirlpool, the black hair - which he now saw perfectly styled whenever he did the polite thing and sought eye contact with this employees as he was speaking - damp and tousled and resting against his shoulder as they looked at the sky.

They filed out when he had laid out his plans for the press conference he was going to give, and he looked up just before Phichit walked out the door. A polite, strictly professional goodbye was exchanged, and Chris felt a pang tug on his heartstrings when Phichit averted his eyes the correct, polite moment later and turned towards one of his colleagues from social media. They were already talking about how they would place the announcement on their different social media channels. Chris strained his ears to at least catch as much of that voice if he wasn’t allowed to look or touch, but then Sara was upon him and pulling him down into a fierce, bone-crushing hug that belied her tender frame.

Back at his desk he grabbed a notepad and a pen. He started writing down things he wanted to say, though he kept getting distracted by the company logo at the top of the page. His thoughts went to Sara and Mickey, who carried the other name in that logo. To Victor, who had always been one of them like Yakov had been for their fathers, if not in name then in heart and soul and everything he had. For a moment Chris’ pen flew over the page. He already knew he would not hand over these notes to Sara for the official statements. He may not even use them at all at the press conference but he needed them for himself.

There was a very faint knock on the door from the hall, the one that was barely ever used by anyone on this floor as they all came in via Yuuri’s office.

Chris frowned as he looked up. “Come in.”

Phichit slipped inside and closed the door without a sound. Chris’ eyebrows shot up, but at the same time he felt something he hadn’t felt like this for a long time. Relief. Joy.

“Sara needs a signature.” Phichit came over to his desk and placed a folder in front of him. Chris opened it and saw a list Sara had prepared for him, with a list of several TV and radio stations and newspapers they were inviting to his press conference. All of the locals and some bigger names that would make sure his message reached the right address. He read over the text quickly, more out of habit than out of mistrust. He trusted Sara with his life.

“Can I come over tonight?” Phichit asked quietly. His eyes flitted over to the other door, the one behind which he knew Yuuri was at his desk. _Hopefully_ at his desk and not right on the other side with one hand on the door handle.

“I would love that,” Chris said without looking up from the papers. He felt it too, the nervous tension over the fact that someone might walk in on them and see past the way they were close together. Much closer than the situation called for. They each had their best friend just right on the other side of that door. It was playing with fire, and despite everything, Chris couldn’t help but feel the fainted tingle of nervous excitement.

The moment Chris had signed the papers Phichit picked up the folder and closed it, but one of his hands came to rest on Chris’ shoulder for one moment, for one reassuring squeeze. As if he could put everything he was not allowed to display into this small gesture. Chris felt touched to the core.

“Phichit,” he started when Phichit was already by the door.

Phichit swung round, and the look on his face broke Chris’ heart for a moment.

“I don’t want to drag you into this mess that is my family.” He left the rest unspoken. _If you want out, this is your chance._

“Six o’clock, Christophe. Dress code - sporty.” Phichit gave him a bright smile and slipped from the room as silently as he had come in.

Dress code, Chris thought as he looked at the closed door for minutes after it had been shut without a sound. He could see Phichit in his mind, hurrying out through the glass door that led out to the back stairwell, hopping down the three sets of stairs and coming back in through a similar glass door on his floor. He would hand Sara her signed papers and all the world would not be any wiser of the huge meaning his small favour had.

At his desk, Chris leaned back in the soft leather of his chair and put down his pen.

The phones barely stood still as soon as the announcement of the press conference was out by lunchtime. Some time in the early afternoon Chris stopped short when he came out of Steph and Luca’s office after handling some legal aspects of how much he was allowed to say about the current court case against Anya and their former manager who had set the fire to their hazelnut plantation in Turkey. His mouth formed an involuntary smile when he faintly registered the words being spoken to his left and right and the fact that they were the same, voiced almost at the same time too. There were always some news stations who still wanted on the list, Chris knew that. There were always some glossy magazines who thought they could create a new piece of juicy gossip about him even from a serious business press conference.

Chris was pretty sure they were trying now. He could see it from the sneer on Georgi’s face and the way Yuuri’s brow furrowed in irritation, both of them clearly annoyed by the insistence on the other end. Yuuri and Georgi had been absolute troopers, catching every call and answering clipped, precise and polite.

“No, Mr Giacometti will not be giving any additional interviews. Please refer to our press office for more information. Thank you and goodbye.”

Two phones were slammed down almost simultaneously, the sounds like a faint echo across the short distance of the hall.

“Bloody vultures!” Georgi snarled, rolling the ‘r’ prominently with his Russian accent and agitation.

“So rude! Jesus!” Yuuri exclaimed. He looked exceedingly unnerved.

Their eyes met across the hall and they burst out laughing.

And Chris had to smile. He caught Yuuri looking at him, sobering up when their eyes met, and turning his attention back to his computer screen. From the way he moved the mouse and spontaneously grinned at one corner of his screen only Chris was sure he was reading a message on the internal messenger. No question who it was from, the way Yuuri glanced up and across the hall to where Victor’s door was open told Chris everything he needed to know. He repressed a sigh, torn between the happiness he felt for Victor and the strictly professional attitude Yuuri displayed towards him. He knew he had a long, long way to go to make amends with his best friend’s boyfriend.

Back in his office, he closed the door quietly behind himself and exhaled a long breath.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

He was sweaty from a run on the treadmill when the doorbell rang. Phichit had texted him a while ago that it might be good if he stretched and warmed up a little. Intrigued, Chris had played along, welcoming some physical exhaustion anyway after the long day he had had. He headed downstairs in his black sweats and T-shirt, feeling an instant chill when he opened the door and Phichit brought the winter night air with him and what looked suspiciously like a gift-wrapped balloon on a stick. With a foot. A second gift was attached with a ribbon, unshapely from the looks of it and yet stylishly wrapped.

“Hi.” Phichit looked freezing and excited, leaning on the “balloon” with one arm.

“Hi.” Chris found himself smiling as he opened the door wide and stepped aside but Phichit didn’t come in.

“You take this, but don’t peek!” He held the stick in the middle and handed it over to Chris. “I need to get something else from the car.”

He was back moments later, lugging a large bag of… Chris squinted. “Flower soil?” he asked, taken aback.

“Sand,” Phichit corrected. He came in and closed the door after dropping what Chris now saw was a 25 kilo bag of sand unceremoniously on the floor. Suddenly the puzzle pieces started coming together and making sense. He tugged on the ribbon around the “balloon” curiously but Phichit gently slapped his hand away.

“This needs to go upstairs in your gym first, then you can unwrap your present.”

“Okay.” Chris chuckled. He took Phichit’s coat from him. By the time he turned back from the closet Phichit was already on his way to the stairs with the bag of sand, hefting it on one hip as he slowly ascended the stairs with one hand on the banister. Chris picked up the gift on the stick again and followed.

“Do you need any help with that?” he asked, looking up at Phichit ahead of him, not without concern.

“I’m fine.” Phichit huffed and blew a strand of hair from his face.

He was out of breath by the time they reached Chris’ gym on the first floor.

“Can I unwrap my present now?” Chris chuckled as he placed it in the middle of the room on its foot.

“One moment.” Phichit stepped over the bag of sand so that he came to stand right in front of Chris. His features softened. “I haven’t said Hello properly.”

Chris felt something catch in his chest when Phichit looked up at him, standing so close that he could feel the warmth coming off his body. “Hello.”

“Hi.” Phichit smiled, and then rose on his toes and placed the softest kiss on his lips that hit Chris like a punch to everything he had kept guarded. Phichit’s arms came around him in a hug and he reached around him too, while at the same time he felt himself blushing a little when he remembered he had been running.

“I’m all sweaty…” he muttered, a little embarrassed.

“Shut up, Christophe.” Phichit’s voice sounded muffled against his chest. Jesus, Chris thought, he was actually breathing him in. The intimacy shook him up for a moment. He wasn’t used to this, felt like a newly hatched chick. Phichit brought his arms closer around him, the damp back of his T-shirt sticking to Chris’ back in the movement. When Phichit let go and stepped back the soaked fabric came away from his back, too, and it felt like it was taking a chunk out of him in doing so, leaving a small window at a truth he hadn’t wanted to acknowledge for the longest time: It felt good to be held.

“ _Now_ you can unwrap your present!”

Smiling from one ear to the other, Phichit took a small step out of the way, watching him with excitement that was palpable in the way he grinned and hovered a little giddily by his side.

Chris untied the ribbon and removed the softly rustling paper. He had guessed what it was, of course, but he was still surprised. Of all the presents he had never imagined the first one in a new relationship to be, it was certainly not this.

“You got me a punching ball?” Chris asked, incredulously.

“Yeah.” Phichit grinned, a little proudly.

“Why?” Chris felt his heart overflowing in the most ridiculous way. He wanted to kiss him. He wanted to kiss Phichit right here, right now, because he knew all of a sudden that this was exactly what he needed and Phichit had known it first.

“Because you haven’t got one. And I think now is the time that you need one more than ever.”

“What if I don’t know the slightest bit about boxing?”

“But you do. These aren’t for show, they’re the real deal.” Phichit nodded at a pair of boxing gloves hanging from a nail in the wall.

Chris followed his gaze and was overcome with nostalgia. He had brought those home with him from his uni days in California. Since then he had barely done any boxing, and suddenly he wondered why. He reached for the other gift, the one still hanging wrapped up from the lower end of the leather ball. Once he’d opened it, he smiled and held up the pair of boxing gloves and rolled up wraps.

“I need it that bad, huh?” he asked, trying to sound funny, and failing.

“I think you do.” Phichit clearly didn’t feel like laughing as he watched him with slightly tilted head.

“And am I supposed to stick a photo of my father on it and then hit it again and again?”

Phichit looked sheepish for an instant. He brought one hand up to the back of his head and scratched his hair. “I very nearly printed one off the internet and stuck it one myself to be honest,” he admitted, “but then decided not to do it at the last minute.”

Chris stared at him for a moment. And then he laughed. For the first time that day, he laughed, unrestrained and full-bodied. 

Phichit seemed relieved as he walked over to the small notebook he had seen propped up on a narrow sideboard. And suddenly Chris knew infallibly that Phichit could probably spot a playlist from a mile.

He reached for the boxing gloves and tried them on. His mouth curled into an acknowledging smirk and he almost nodded.

“Are they okay?”

He looked up at Phichit’s question.

“They’re perfect.” He held up both hands, then pushed one of the gloves off again. “I need to wrap my hands first though.”

Phichit nodded, satisfied, and turned away from the notebook, announcing that he would fill the foot of the punching ball with sand so that it would be weighed down enough. Once this was done, the punching ball now standing firmly in the middle of the room, Phichit looked at Chris with his hands in his hips.

“I thought I could make dinner…” He chewed his bottom lip between his teeth. “If you like.”

“Do you still have some groceries hiding in your car?”

“You have cupboards and a fridge full of fancy food. I want to try making something from that.”

One of Chris’ eyebrows rose with interest. “Are you sure? I can order something, you know.”

“No.” Phichit’s grin was almost devilish. “I want to see if I can make a three-course-meal from your assortment of fancy food.”

Chris chuckled. “That sounds like a challenge.”

“I like a good challenge.” Phichit’s gaze pierced him to the core. Chris knew he was not just talking about the food. “Can I use everything I find in your cupboards or is anything off limits?”

Chris’ forehead crinkled in thought. “No,” he said at last. “Use whatever you want.”

Phichit nodded at his wrapped hands. “Let me see those.”

He stepped closer and looked over the wraps that Chris had wound around his wrists and knuckles like he remembered having learned it way back at college. Nodding his approval, Phichit headed over to the notebook again. Chris was still looking at his hands. He was surprised that this movements were still so familiar. He didn’t remember boxing quite as often, but then it had been a long time ago and a lot of things had happened since then. A lot of _him_ had happened since then. And his body clearly remembered.

“That’s some good stuff on there,” Phichit was saying, glancing briefly up at Chris from where he was scrolling through the playlist displayed on the notebook screen again. “I don’t suppose you have a fancy rich bitch sound system that will let me hear this in the kitchen, too?”

For a moment they looked at each other across the room. Then Chris’ contorted his face in a way that displayed slight embarrassed of his overindulgence. Phichit, on the other hand, grinned like a child that has found the Christmas presents he ordered from Santa under his parents’ bed.

“Where is it?” he asked, teeth digging into a lush bottom lip with cheeky impatience, and there was just the slightest bounce on his feet.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Chris remarked with an unfazed wriggle of his eyebrows.

“I’ll find it.” Phichit turned towards the playlist again and chose one song. “For now, this on repeat will be perfect.”

He tapped the touch pad and sauntered from the room.

“Top right drawer of the kitchen cabinet,” Chris yelled after him over the synthesiser sounds that already came from the speakers. “There’s a small remote control that will switch on the speakers in the kitchen.”

He thought he could hear Phichit call out a cheerful “Thank you” but that might have just been his imagination.

He circled the punching ball a couple of times to get the feeling back, landing some punches, alternating between left and right, and stopping the swinging ball with one hand. The moves came back soon enough, his head and shoulders remembering how to dodge, and he brought more distance between himself and the punching ball. He breathed, slowly, deeply, desperately in and out, loud enough that he could hear himself over the music. The more he got back into the flow the faster he moved. The smaller his inhibitions became,the more his need rose to spit out every single morsel of this day. His father’s interview was suddenly back in his mind, every word a shadow mocking him from every corner of the room, dancing with his demons in a most obscene manner that made bile rise in his throat.

Chris paused for one brief moment.

And then he hit.

He knew it was wrong to think of his father, so he tried to think of the way he made him feel instead.

Small.

Incapable.

Childish.

Not good enough.

Unloved.

Un. Loved.

He punched every hated syllable in the face, again and again, the beat of the song picking up and guiding his fists and getting faster, faster, until he was just one erratic move.

_… you shoot me down but I won’t fall… you shoot me down but I won’t fall…_

He hit and dodged, hit and dodged, breath coming in fast, sob-like bouts he wished fervently he wasn’t able to hear over the music.

He didn’t really see Phichit come in. But the music suddenly stopped, and he stopped too, looking in wonder at the hand that reached out to still the punching ball in its hysterical swinging.

“I think that’s quite enough,” Phichit said softly and watched him from three steps away.

Panting heavily and exhausted, suddenly Chris wanted to be alone and have a good cry.

“Meet me downstairs for dinner?” Phichit walked to the door, one of his hands brushing over Chris’ back in passing. It was the gentleness of the gesture, the touch of a hand placed on his back, regardless of the sweat-soaked shirt clinging to his skin that made Chris want to weep. “If you want, that is.”

Chris looked up, alarmed by the sudden shyness he hadn’t expected from Phichit, not tonight, perhaps not at all. And he knew that one word from him would make Phichit retreat, just as he knew that among all the things he wanted there was one thing he very clearly did _not_ want, and that was Phichit leaving.

“I’ll be down after a quick shower,” he said. His own voice sounded strange to him.

“Good.” Phichit nodded, and gave him a reassuring smile that made Chris wonder how he deserved it.

He tossed his sweaty gym clothes in the laundry hamper and stepped into the shower. His arms hurt as he raised them to wash his hair, and it was only now that he recognised the feeling. The pleasant, complete and utter exhaustion that no good workout had given him since his college days. He already knew that he would sleep like a log tonight, something he hadn’t dared think about since the moment he checked the business news in the morning and the coffee tasted stale and bitter in his mouth when he saw his own name pop up.

A short time later he had flung on a pair of comfortable grey pants and a blue shirt and was making his way downstairs when a most delicious scent already hit him that practically lured him to the kitchen. Another first for this day, he thought. He hadn’t managed to eat anything, but now he was ravenous. The table was laid in the jutty, he could see in passing, and there was a glass plate in the middle of the table that had some tea lights on it that were lit.

“Romantic,” he teased when he walked into the kitchen.

“I know that proper candles would be nicer but your kitchen is sorely lacking in that department.” Phichit looked up from where he was stirring in a pot on the stove. “All I could find were those IKEA tea lights.”

“I can buy some candles if you like.” Chris stepped closer until he was just beside Phichit but not touching.

“ _I’ll_ buy the candles, if you don’t mind.” Phichit grabbed a small spoon from the cutlery drawer, dipped it into the pot and brought it up to Chris’ mouth. Chris blew on it a couple of times before he sampled it. His eyes opened wide at the spicy tomato sauce.

“This is fantastic. You made that with something you found in my kitchen?”

Phichit laughed. “I just tossed chorizo and canned as well as dried tomatoes in a pot with some garlic and spices and hoped for the best. I’m going to add pasta to that later.”

He headed over to the fridge and opened it. Chris could hear a sound of exasperation from behind the fridge door, and then Phichit’s voice.

“How do you even survive with nothing in your fridge but milk, fancy cheese, ham, a ton of limes, and, and I’m even sure I want to know how or why that is even there, half a bulb of garlic?”

“You forgot to mention the whipped cream,” Chris grinned.

“That’s not even an excuse for food, Christophe, it doesn’t count.” Phichit closed the fridge door and placed the lump of Parmigiano cheese he had taken out on the kitchen counter.

“Sara left the garlic, I’m sure,” Chris said and opened a drawer from which he took a flat cheese grater that he handed to Phichit. “The last time she was round to make her famous spaghetti.”

“Oh, Sara’s spaghetti!” Phichit actually swooned a little as he took the cheese grater with a nod of thanks and started grating some Parmigiano into a smaller pot. “There’s some white wine I found in the fridge that I put in the freezer, why don’t you open that and sit down?”

Chris looked at him for a long moment. Phichit seemed so at home in his kitchen, and he knew his way around it much better than Chris himself. It felt to him like someone had switched on a light, flicked a hidden switch he still didn’t even know where to find. He only knew that it made him feel exceedingly moth-like.

But he did as he was told, poured himself a glass of wine and water for the both of them, and a little while later he sat up straight in his seat when Phichit placed a deep plate of soup in front of him that smelt absolutely mouthwatering before he rounded the table with a second plate and sat down opposite from Chris.

“Where did you find something green?” Chris asked after he’d admired the dark green rings of chopped chives decoratively sprinkled over the soup.

“There’s an assortment of frozen herbs in the bottom drawer of your freezer,” Phichit told him as he picked up his spoon. “Some of them unopened. In case you’ve forgotten.”

“Good to know.” Chris chuckled. “I don’t know what to do with them, but at least I know they’re there.”

Phichit snorted. “I know about ten different things to make with those off the top of my head.”

“Is that a promise or a threat?”

Phichit stilled at the question. “We’ll see,” he said at last. “Anyways! This…” He pointed at the soup with his spoon. “…is a soup I made from dried porcini mushrooms and a glass of fancy chicken stock you had in your cupboards.”

It was delicious. And for a short while they just ate in comfortable silence, and Chris felt how the unpleasant tangles that had had his stomach in knots all day relaxed and unwound further.

“Listen,” Phichit began eventually, and Chris frowned when he saw him hover somewhat nervously in his seat. “I don’t want you to feel like I don’t care or it’s not important to me, but just in case you wonder why I’m not asking, it’s not because I don’t give a damn but because I was under the impression that you don’t want to talk about it.”

The speed and nervous edge with which he shot out the words reminded Chris of the day he had come here to talk about his crush on him after accidentally spilling the beans. Day One, as Chris silently counted it.

“You’re right,” Chris replied calmly. “I don’t.”

“Oh, good!” Phichit exhaled. “I wasn’t sure… I just went with… raw gut feeling, I suppose.”

“It ruined my day. Let’s not let it ruin my evening too, okay?” Chris picked up his wine glass, raised it briefly like in a toast and took a generous sip, washing down all the ugly sentiments that had momentarily dared to rear their ugly heads.

“Okay.” Phichit nodded. If he was relieved, he didn’t show it, and _that_ made Chris feel relieved and touched at the same time. “Do you want to look at the pictures I took over the weekend and see which ones you would like me to send you?”

All of them, Chris thought, I want every tiny moment to remember this weekend by, because I am so scared to forget even the smallest, insignificant detail. Out loud, he said, “I’d love that.”

The main course was pasta with the spicy tomato sauce with large pieces of chorizo Phichit had had him taste earlier. Chris remembered the business trip to Italy where he had been gifted this particular pasta in a tiny, hidden shop where some grannies made the pasta by hand with local ingredients, and he told Phichit about it, which led to a conversation about places they had seen in the world and the photographs Chris remembered seeing on the pinboard in Phichit’s bedroom. They carried their plates to the kitchen and put them in the dishwasher. Chris refused Phichit’s help, insisting he had done all the cooking, so he didn’t need to clean up.

“So.” Chris looked up from putting the pots in the dishwasher. “Is there dessert? A cheese platter perhaps?”

“Mhm…” Phichit was leaning back against the breakfast counter, face contorted in thought. “I’m kind of craving something sweet.”

“There’s a lot of chocolate up there.” Chris nodded at one of the upper cabinets before he started to wipe down the cooker with the sponge his cleaner had told him to use for that particular purpose after she had seen the fine scratches he’d left in the glass ceramic cook top after using the wrong sponge.

“I saw. Some of that costs a fortune.” Phichit pushed himself off the counter, his face lit up by an idea, and he went over to one of the cabinets and opened it. A moment later he placed a glass on the breakfast counter and started rummaging around the drawers that held cutlery and other assorted small kitchen helpers until Chris could hear a triumphant “Ha!” before Phichit straightened back up and held a stainless steel grater over his head like a treasure he’d found.

Chris finished wiping down the worktops and dried his hands on the tea towel on the hook before he stepped up to Phichit’s side and curiously watched his administrations. He stood close enough for their shoulders to touch, close enough for the fresh, peppery linger of perfume and hair products to drape around him like a careful embrace. He wanted to step behind him and place his chin on Phichit’s shoulder as he watched what he was doing, and the sudden craving for such a domestic, cosy gesture took him so much by surprise that he didn’t act on it. If he hadn’t known better, he would have thought he felt shy. Instead, Chris turned around so that he was leaning with his hip against the counter, one arm braced on the top.

Phichit had arranged three half peaches on each plate. Small pools of syrup gathered around them on the white china, and the sweet aroma of cane sugar actually made Chris forget all about the cheese platter that was his preferred dessert. Phichit hurried over to the fridge, shaking the can of whipped cream as he came back to the counter with it and took off the cap.

Chris watched him carefully spray a small top of cream onto every half peach, as calm and meticulous as a pastry chef piping cream onto a cake in elegant rings and spirals. He took the can automatically when Phichit shoved it at him with a soft question to put it back in the fridge.

When he turned around, Phichit was grating a small bar of dark chocolate over each plate, showering the peaches with a generous helping of chocolate shavings. He cocked his head to look at his finished work for a moment, then decided it was up to his standards and put the grater down first before he wrapped the rest of the chocolate carefully back up.

“Wow.” Chris pretended not to notice how the tip of Phichit’s tongue darted out briefly to sample the remnants of dark chocolate that clung to his fingers. “This is amazing!”

Chris bit back a smirk. “I should hope so, that bar there cost 12 Swiss francs.”

“It did _what_?” Phichit froze. “And you watched me grate it over canned whipped cream?!”

He said the last words like an insult. For a moment he seemed in panic, and Chris chuckled.

“Phichit.” Their eyes met. “It’s fine.”

He picked up the two plates, nodded in the direction of the dining area and led the way back.

“This is good!” Chris actually uttered a little moan around his spoon when he savoured the first mouthful of syrup-soaked fruit and fluffy cream in his mouth, the slightly bitter chocolate balancing the sweetness perfectly.

Phichit didn’t say anything. He just grinned happily across the table.

“I declare this our favourite dessert!” Phichit announced after they had eaten in comfortable, blissed out silence for a while.

Chris looked up from where he was trying to get some especially reluctant chocolate shavings onto his spoon.

“Peaches and cream…” he mused and gave up, putting his plate down on the table with a regretful sigh. Suddenly he remembered something, and looked at Phichit. “Isn’t Peach your nickname? Victor mentioned something like it…”

Opposite him, Phichit very slowly lowered his hand, leaving the spoon hanging from one corner of his mouth. They were both as still as frozen, and a million associations and meanings of these simple two words in combination swung heavily back and forth all of a sudden. Most of them had nothing to do with an innocent dessert. Phichit reached for his spoon in slow motion and averted his eyes as he placed it very carefully on the table beside his plate. The corners of his mouth twitched and he pressed his lips together. An unexpected blush could be witnessed fighting its way so prominently into existence that it was visible in the darker tan of his skin all the way from the other side of the table. 

Chris’ spoon clattered on the table with a loud noise as he threw it down, his body already shaking with the onset of laughter. The moment their eyes met again across the table, they lost it completely. They laughed until they had actual tears streaming down their faces, doubling over in their seats because it started to hurt yet for some reason they couldn’t seem to stop.

“Oh my _god!_ ” Phichit’s voice was more of a high-pitched howling with laughter through his hands. “ _Peaches_ and cream! Nobody is _ever_ going to believe us this has no sexual subtext!”

“No.” Getting out the one word between bouts of laughter was a great accomplishment, Chris felt.

Eventually they calmed down, just a small burst of laughter daring to bubble up here and there whenever they looked at each other, and once Chris muttered “Peaches and cream!” again low under his breath, but not low enough for Phichit not to notice and utter a forced sound of suppressed laughter that came out as a snort and made him clamp his hands over his mouth instantly.

They cleared the table together, blew out the tea lights and retreated to the couch near the door where they had the best view of the garden and the fairy lights swinging gently in the cold winter air. At some point Rani deemed them worthy of her company and jumped gracefully on the sofa to curl up in Phichit’s lap with Chris’ hand running soothingly through the fur on her back. Her loud purring was the perfect soundtrack to the memories the photos on Phichit’s phone placed around them like a soft white blanket that was a warm, gentle version of the snow they had spent their weekend in.

Chris still felt it when he’d seen Phichit off by the door. He still felt the soft curve of Phichit’s bottom lip under his thumb where he had run it across it, still felt the lingering warmth of their kiss in every cell of his body.

He loved that every time Phichit left his house he seemed to leave a tiny little bit of himself behind.

And he hoped with all his heart that Phichit was not taking anything of his demons with him when he left.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Sara had booked the usual room in one of the convention centres in the city for the press conference. Even with the short notice of not even one whole week from the announcement until the actual conference and the only time slot available being Friday noon, everyone they had invited had confirmed. When Chris arrived about one hour before, the rows of seats were already beginning to fill up with journalists, the hum of voices overlapping with the upbeat music playing at low volume from the speakers placed strategically throughout the room. He knew he was drawing attention to himself when he decided to enter through the actual conference room and not the back door, but he wanted to make sure everything was going according to plan, and he didn’t want to hide. The buzz and the anticipation fired him up and added fuel to his determination. One of Sara’s PR team members was standing by the door giving out name tags and press portfolios to every guest. There was a catering table set up on one wall with a small assortment of pretzels and croissants, coffee and water, giving off the desired vibe of Crispino & Giacometti still looking after the people they asked for their time and attention but did not go overboard. Chris made a little smalltalk, shook some hands with people he knew, and made his way to the front where an hour from now he would be standing in the limelight. He had decided against a table but opted for a standing desk instead. Sara was doing the soundcheck herself, in between talking to their own social media team who would be filming from different angles.

Chris was about to leave the conference room through the side door when he paused abruptly in his steps at the sight of the person standing there. He had not expected to see _him_ here, not at all.

“Yakov.”

His astonishment must have been obvious, for if he hadn’t known any better he would have said Yakov was trying for a reassuring smile.

“One of us should be here backing you up today,” Yakov said gruffly.

Chris felt it like a knee in the balls. One of them. One of the company founders. It was almost laughable if it hadn’t been something to cry about, the fact that it wasn’t his own father here today backing him up.

His hand rested on Yakov’s shoulder before he gave him a nod, that universal male gesture that said all the words they couldn’t bring across their lips, and his eyebrows shot up when Yakov placed his own hand over Chris’ for one brief, encouraging moment.

The room that led off straight from the conference room was buzzing with activity. Like in a backstage area Sara’s whole team was milling about, PR and social media staff talking on headsets, going over notes, checking that the row of large screens hung along the top walls of the room showed every angle of the cameras that would be filming the press conference.

“Chris.”

His head whipped around and he found himself face to face with Yuuri. “Here’s a list of those questions that have already been submitted in advance.” Yuuri held out a sheet of paper to him.

“Thank you.”

Yuuri nodded and withdrew. Chris walked over to one of the catering tables to get some coffee, his head bent over the papers in his hand as he already started to read. He put them down on the table for a moment and reached for one of the thermos pots and poured himself a cup of coffee. It wasn’t the standard he was used to, but it would do, he thought when he reached for a small jug of milk.

“Christophe.”

Chris’ hand froze mid-movement. Everything inside and outside became very still. He watched his hand like he was a whole separate person, lowering the milk jug back down onto the crisp white table cloth without pouring any into his coffee. The instant change in the atmosphere was noticeable in the whole room.

Chris straightened to his full height very slowly. He knew he looked immaculate, his tailor-made black pinstripe suit sat perfectly on him, the green stripes in his tie matched his eyes. He felt confident, determined, he felt every word he was going to say. By the time he turned around, he looked like it, too.

“ _Papa_.” He greeted him with a polite nod, pronouncing the word in the French way with the stress on the second syllable. “I hope you are well.”

He didn’t need to say any more, fortunately, for at this moment Sara shot between them like a flustered mother hen, drawing all of his father’s attention away from Chris.

“Sara. How are you, _principessa_?”

She rolled her eyes. “I am pissed off with you, if you must know!”

But she let herself be pulled into a hug nonetheless, throwing Chris a helpless look of ‘What am I supposed to do?’ over his father’s shoulder. Chris gave her the faintest smile and shake of his head to let her know it was alright.

“Excuse me, please. I need to prepare my answers to these questions.”

Chris indicated a small polite bow as he picked up the papers from the table and stepped away from them, forcing his steps to be slow and measured. He had singled out a sofa in a corner as far away as possible and he walked over there and sat down in one corner, one leg crossed over the other, and concentrated just on the task at hand. Anger was bubbling under his skin, the overbearing presence of his father an itch he could not scratch right at this moment, and it drove him crazy. Everyone knew that he was not here to back him up but to see him fail. Halfway down the first page he frowned, pausing in the notes he scribbled next to each question because the song playing lowly from a stereo somewhere in the room had wormed its way through and gotten his attention.

_I’m bulletproof nothing to lose, fire away fire away…_

Chris’ head whipped up. Sought out the other end of the room, where several people of Sara’s team were looking at a laptop screen in front of them. One of them looked up as if he could feel Chris’ eyes on him across the distance.

Chris cocked one eyebrow in question.

Phichit shrugged, but his eyes were dancing.

Chris looked down at the paper in his lap again, the palest ghost of a smile curling his mouth.

At 12 o’clock sharp, Christophe Giacometti stepped out in front of the cameras. He was charming and smart as he presented a short summary of their company’s recent crisis and gave an update on the state of the rebuilding and the latest developments on their road to recovery. He was honest, and he was on fire as he answered every question that was thrown his way. Time and again his eyes would dart to his right, where he could see Victor and Sara standing in the door of the adjoining room, reassuring with their presence alone. He knew that nearly every single on of their employees who was present and not occupied with other duties was crowded around the screens in the room, hanging onto his every word.

Their scheduled hour drew to a close when he put down the pile of papers on the desk in front of him and looked around the room before he focussed on the camera closest to him like he and Sara had agreed on when they planned this. He knew the words off by heart, they had gone over them together so many times.

“There’s something I would like to say here today, in front of all of you.”

Anticipation crawled up his spine and sat on his shoulder, invisible to the camera but weighing so heavy on his frame. He changed his posture, stood taller. Prouder.

“I treasure everything my parents have provided me with. I am beyond grateful for the opportunities I was given and for the company that has been entrusted to me. But I’d like to make one thing perfectly clear.”

Chris looked directly at the camera.

“I didn’t do this for my father. I did it for Victor and Sara, and for the many people around the globe but especially here, who give their labour, their energy, their creativity and their sweat and tears for us every single day. Especially all our staff here, on location, who have built lives in this city and placed their families’ existence in our hands. Who have humbled me with the trust they placed into my… _our_ hands during this recent crisis. Who have stood by our side and came back to work every day even though on some days we weren’t even able to tell them if they would still have a job to come back to the next day. I thank each and every one of you who never lost your spirit and believed in us. You give life to this company. You are Crispino & Giacometti.”

He made a meaningful pause to let in sink in. From the corner of his eye he could see Sara nodding, ready to wrap things up. Before she could move away from the doorway, he leaned closer to the microphone again.

“And while I’m on a roll and saying thanks…” He cleared his throat. Threw a sideways glance.

“Sara’s getting nervous back there now because this was not in the notes we prepared in advance.” He chuckled into the microphone and smiled a devastating smile at the cameras. For a moment Sara was seen on every screen, waving his words off with a nervous laugh and a very telltale gesture of her hand while she muttered something in Italian.

Chris smiled her way and then looked back at the camera. “I want to thank every single person who works for Crispino & Giacometti because you make it all happen. You make this big, happy family possible. I want to say Hello to my friend Leyla in Turkey. Thank you for your beautiful drawing and for your letter, sweetheart, I’ll write back as soon as I can.”

The weight on his shoulder felt lighter all of a sudden. The feeling that he was doing something right became acute.

“I want to thank our partners and shareholders who kept their cool even in the most turbulent times and did not give up on us even though we were unable to hold up our end of the deal. And I thank Jean-Jacques Leroy especially, for the trust he put in us when no-one else would. _Merci beaucoup!_ ”

He winked at the camera, knowing that Isabella had made sure that Canada was up and watching this.

Chris swallowed hard. “From the bottom of my heart, I thank Massimo Crispino, Yakov Feltsman and Josef Karpisek, for being father figures and pillars of strength.”

A mumble went through the crowd. He couldn’t have cut out his own father any more if he’d tried.

“Michele Crispino - I don’t know what I would do if I couldn’t call you whenever I’m stuck and need a new perspective on things. I know you’re watching this in Milan right now… I miss you, buddy, and I can’t thank you enough.”

An affectionate smile flitted across his face, directed at his childhood friend. Then he became serious.

“I… want to thank the person who showed me kindness and light in what was possibly my darkest hour. You know who you are. And somehow you know who I am, too, and it doesn’t scare you off. You amaze me every day. I think you could be the light of my life.”

He took a deep breath. “Last but not least…”

Chris’ voice faltered and he cleared his throat. He glanced sideways to his right again.

“More than anything - Victor and Sara. You are my best friends and my business partners, and you excel at both. Thank you for holding the fort and for having my back, for trusting in me when I don’t even trust myself, and for kicking my butt whenever I need it. And most of all, thank you for being my family.”

“I’m not crying, you’re crying,” Sara sobbed quietly to Victor, who didn’t say anything, just kept his teary eyes on Chris and squeezed Sara’s shoulder tighter where he had his arm slung around her.

Chris stepped down from the podium after thanking everyone for their time and their attendance, and Sara joined him for a few words to wrap things up.

He didn’t even get through the door of the adjoining room before he found himself engulfed in a bear hug.

“I’m so proud of you, you smug bastard!” Victor chuckled against his ear. “You’re so fucking good at this, doing the press shit, and taking all of by surprise. I thought Sara was going to combust right beside me, she had no idea what you were doing.”

For a moment they shook with laughter, then hugged tight again before Victor let Chris go.

His father was gone, Chris noticed not without triumph. His phone vibrated in his pocket and he took it out, seeing a message from Mickey on the screen.

**_Mickey_ **

_I’m coming over for dinner._

Chris smiled and typed a quick reply.

_< < Brilliant! I didn’t know you were in town!_

The reply came promptly.

**_Mickey_ **

_I’m not. On my way to the airport._

Chuckling, Chris wrote back.

_< < You’re coming for dinner all the way from Milan??? You’re an idiot._

**_Mickey_ **

_I miss you too, buddy._

Chris looked up from his phone at Sara. She was standing beside him with Victor and Yuuri, clearly waiting for him to get off his phone. “Your brother’s a fucking idiot,” he told her. “He’s flying in from Milan to have dinner with us.”

“Sometimes my brother has brilliant ideas.” Sara pulled him close to her side and wrapped one arm around his waist. “We could book a table at Celestino’s. They have the large one in the back, we can bring our dates.”

“Sometimes _you_ have brilliant ideas, too, darling!” Victor beamed at her, and then at Yuuri.

“Don’t you think it should just be the four of you?” Yuuri said.

“Yuuuuri! I want you there. These are my closest friends.” Chris could see that Victor tried not to pout.

“It’s fine. I think you need this.” Yuuri rubbed his arm soothingly. “The four of you need this. Indulge me, Vitya. I like the thought that the four young people from that magazine article I’ve been keeping all those years still get together like this.”

Victor cocked his head in thought. “We could recreate that picture where we lift Sara up.”

“You could.” Yuuri nodded. “Actually, you _should_. After Chris’ speech today, it would be a strong message.”

“You, my darling, are a fucking star!” Victor pulled Yuuri close and kissed him.

Sara was already bouncing on her toes beside them. Chris had watched their exchange just like Sara had, and he had felt the exact moment when she snapped into action beside him. Yuuri’s suggestion was too good to pass up.

“Yura can take the picture, we’ll just promise him free food from Ciao Ciao’s.” Sara rubbed her hands.

Yuuri laughed, then looked from one to the other, although he averted his eyes from Chris very quickly. “I’ll get my gang together,” he told Victor, “and maybe we can meet in a club later or something. Dance a little.”

“Perfect!” Victor and Sara said almost at the same time.

Chris couldn’t agree more, even though he didn’t voice it this openly. His eyes were scanning the room as subtly as he could. Phichit was busy looking over the raw material one of his colleagues had on camera, an inscrutable, neutral expression on his face. Chris thought he saw him go still, almost as if he could feel his eyes on him. He looked away, accepted a fatherly pat on the shoulder from Yakov and thanked him for being here, before he dared risk another look, and there was no mistaking - Phichit was definitely blushing and smiling, pretending he hadn’t just a moment before looked up at Chris.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Chris was just starting on his dessert when Sara’s phone beeped yet again. Both he and Mickey threw her an exasperated glance before they continued their conversation, though he would have been lying if he hadn’t listened with one ear to what the two across the table were talking about as they ate their tiramisu. The four of them had always been this tuned to one another, always been aware of each other.

“Victor?”

“Sara?”

“I don’t know what to think about Yuuri, Mila and Emil going clubbing without us.”

“Well, _I_ do. I think let’s get this dinner over and done with as quickly as possible and join them.”

Chris and Mickey looked at each other and rolled their eyes.

“Can you _believe_ they’re actually dancing to ‘The Time of my Life’ without us??” Sara asked Victor, looking up from her phone. Victor leaned over, silver and black hair mingling as they stuck their heads together over Sara’s phone screen.

“Can you two get off your bloody phones?? We’re in the middle of dinner here!” Chris snapped.

“Can _you_ eat your zabaione a little quicker?” Victor shot back. “We all have somewhere better to be!”

Chris was feeling pissed off, more over the fact that it was Phichit who was sending Sara all these photos and videos of Mila, and over the fact that he wished someone was sending him videos of Phichit dancing his heart out if he already couldn’t see it for himself. The realisation made him lower his spoon.

“Mickey, did you know that Emil and Mila can do the Dirty Dancing lift?” Sara asked a moment later, looking up from her phone and the video Chris could see playing there.

“What! Show me that!” Mickey jumped up and rounded the table so that he could lean over Sara’s shoulder and look at the video on her phone. His head shot up and he looked at Chris. “Do you mind getting a move on?!!”

Victor picked up his phone. “I’m calling a taxi, whether you’re ready or not.”

Chris threw his spoon down and his hands up in defeat. In a way he was glad they were occupied, all three of them. They knew him so well, he was constantly afraid one of them would take a closer look and see he was as giddy as they were about getting out of here and heading over to the club. Except that he couldn’t show it. He couldn’t let on how much he was wishing to be able to openly swoon over videos, and being impatient to be with a person waiting for them at the other end of the city. It was the first time all four of them could have gone out together with their partners.

Except for the fact that one of them wasn’t able to show it.

Slightly worried that his face would finally slip and betray him, Chris rose from his seat and went to settle the bill with Ciao Ciao.

“Does Yuuri know that Mambo is your only dance move aside from Disco Fox?” Sara asked as they were waiting outside the restaurant for the taxi to arrive.

Victor grinned with the experience of many, many times of watching _Dirty Dancing_ with Sara and learning the dances like every true _Dirty Dancing_ lover. “Not yet. But he will in about…” He looked at his watch. “Twenty minutes.”

They were still giggling when the taxi pulled up and Mickey quickly got in the passenger seat, leaving the three of them to huddle up in the back. Sara rested her head against Chris’ side when they were seated, and he placed a spontaneous kiss in her hair and wound one arm around her.

‘Big in Japan’ was playing in the club as they walked in.

“Well, if that isn’t fitting then I don’t know what is,” Chris remarked drily to Victor.

Everyone laughed.

As they waited to hand over their coats at the cloakroom, Chris noticed Victor looking at a niche in the opposite wall, half hidden from sight by square pillars placed around the foyer, at a seating bench nestling against the wall, where two young women were sitting talking animatedly, one of them visibly upset. Her friend pulled her into a hug that tugged on the heartstrings of everyone who had ever needed the comfort of a friend when suffering from heartache.

“Victor.”

Chris touched him gently on the arm when it was their turn to hand over their coats.

Yuuri’s head turned like he knew that Victor was in the room.

He scanned the crowd until he singled him out and something changed about his whole manner. A cheeky smile appeared on his face, and the song couldn’t possibly have been timed better, as he seemed to be dancing only for Victor now, laughing and singing along the words “ _I will wait here for my man tonight.”_

Victor shoved his suit jacket into Chris’ arms and was off, making his way through the crowd and up the stairs to where Yuuri was waiting for him on the dance floor.

Chris found a seat by the bar and simply nodded at the barkeeper. A glass of champagne appeared in front of him, and he almost felt sick when he picked it up and memories of the last time he had been here popped up and vanished like the tiny bubbles hitting his nose when he brought the glass to his mouth. The Christmas party lay only a few weeks back, and he still wasn’t able to grasp all the memories. There were far too many blackouts. He hadn’t thought of this before they came here. And how fucking ironic was it that they were back here _again_ , as if there weren’t any other clubs any more since this one had opened.

Sara and Mickey had found Mila and Emil on the dance floor too, and Chris looked at them, suddenly feeling very old, even though it was 80s Night and the songs they were dancing to were older than all of them. He smiled over his champagne glass when Starship’s ‘We Built This City’ began and everyone on the dance floor started freaking out. And as he watched, he was beginning to understand what Victor kept saying about Yuuri’s group of friends. _Phichit’s_ group of friends. Even on a crowded dance floor, the four of them looked like a tightly knit unit. They were turned towards each other, always attuned, smiling even as they yelled every single word of the lyrics at each other. Every move, every expression said that this was one of their favourites. They had probably danced to this a million times, there was not one syllable of the words they could not sing along.

A new song started and Yuuri looked at Phichit for a moment with his eyebrows nearly hitting his hairline before he started laughing. Victor brought one arm around Yuuri from behind, pulling him close and nipping at his earlobe, making Yuuri giggle and lean back into the arms that were wrapped tight around his middle now. Then Victor’s grip eased and he span Yuuri outwards by one hand.

_Mister can you tell me where my love has gone? He’s a Japanese boy_

Chris had to laugh as he watched how much fun Victor was having up there, singing along while Yuuri looked embarrassed and happy at the same time.

Leaning back against the metal rail on the edge of the dance floor, one foot propped up on the lowest bar, Phichit looked exceedingly proud of himself as he watched them, too. He was wearing skinny jeans and a Def Leppard T-shirt, and Chris could see even from the distance that his sneakers were a very expensive new release of a retro model. There was a white skinny scarf draped in a loose loop around his neck, and he must have been dancing for some time because some strands of his hair stuck damp to his face and he kept swiping them back.

Phichit turned his head.

Chris became very still.

Their eyes met across the room, and Chris _felt_ the sigh he was sure Phichit breathed at this moment.

Phichit looked away just a breath or two later, but he made sure Chris had seen his smile.

On the dance floor, Victor and Yuuri were spinning each other around to ‘ _All I wanna do is make love to you_ ’ now, singing along and laughing, and it was impossible not to believe that they meant every single word. Chris’ gaze was drawn back to Phichit, who was moving lightly to the music in his spot, letting his eyes wander over their friends who were all dancing with their respective partners. Yuuri and Victor. Leo and Guang Hong. Sara and Mila. Mickey and Emil.

Chris lowered his eyes.

A well known keyboard melody launched the next song. Chris felt his eyes involuntarily drawn back to Phichit. Guang Hong was by his side now, smirking while Phichit looked like he was flailing and this was the song of his heart.

Chris put his glass back on the bar half full. He felt restless on his seat by now.

_…til now I always got by on my own, I never really cared until I met you… but the secret is still my own, and my love for you is still unknown… How do I get you alone?_

The words were burning a hole into his heart. Pretending he was letting his gaze skim lazily over the crowd and finding it resting only accidentally on the people waiting on the side of the dance floor, he caught Phichit looking back at him, dark eyes almost hidden by black hair falling deep into his face.

Chris slid down from his seat.

His friends welcomed him with cheers on the dance floor, and he had to laugh. Mickey leaned in, yelled “It’s been _years_ , Giacometti!” in his ear, and Chris mirrored the action, yelled “ _Who_ moved to Italy, Crispino!” in Mickey’s. Sara looked happy, and Chris knew this was her face when she had all her boys and now also Mila around her.

_Every time I see you something happens to me_

Even though they were all together as one large group on the dance floor, they kept close to their own people as if for safety. It was innocuous, laughing, singing, dancing, within the safe space of their friends. It was almost too easy, Chris thought. Yuuri and Victor were the connection that moved naturally between the two groups, and they looked so radiant together that it was hard to look past them.

_My heart starts missing a beat… every time_

Phichit on the dance floor was a revelation. Chris remembered he had moves, he had seen him dancing, he had even seen him Bollywood dancing. But even here and now, he moved with such grace and vibrance as if these very songs had been written for him. 

_I’m in love with you, I mean what I say, I’m in love with you and you don’t know what it means to be with you_

Another Pet Shop Boys song came on, and Sara pulled Chris close to dance with her. He spun her around with the practised ease of many years, sneaking the occasional glance over Sara’s shoulder, the words ‘You are always on my mind’ finding more than just a little echo in his heart. Phichit had edged away to the end of the dance floor. The next time Chris saw him he was slowly making his way down the stairs, though he kept looking back over his shoulder as subtly as he could and yet making sure Chris noticed where he was going. The message was pretty clear.

Chris was almost glad that the next song was some sappy ballad that allowed him to take a charming leave from his friends to let them be happy couples. He waited just the smallest bit by the foot of the stairs beside the dance floor, made sure that nobody was paying him any attention. Then he headed to the small back office he remembered very fuzzily from the Christmas party. He knew that Phichit knew it much better, having organised the party with the club owner who was a friend of his as far as Chris knew.

The small office was empty. Chris had just slid his suit jacket off his shoulders and draped it over the back of a chair when Phichit slipped quietly into the room and locked the door from the inside.

On the small couch in the back office of the club, Phichit was this close to crawling into Chris’ lap as they kissed, hands entangled in hair and digging into shoulders for support. They broke apart, gasping for air, and Phichit’s arms came closer around his shoulders as another row of walls crumpled down inside Chris. He buried his face in the curve of Phichit’s neck and loved the feeling of Phichit’s hands, in his hair, across his back, and the way he breathed against his temple when he held him close.

“I’m sorry, I…” Chris raised his head and moved back a little. “I just remembered my father being there and how absolutely terrifying it was to say all those things… to cut him out.”

Phichit laughed softly. His hands were on Chris’s face now, caressing, soothing. “One would never have thought. You looked so smug, so cool.”

“I was a trembling mess inside.” Chris grimaced. “To think that I’m almost thirty years old and my parents can still reduce me to… that.”

“Christophe…” Phichit stopped himself, drew a sharp breath. “Chris.”

Chris’ eyebrows shot up.

“I’m sorry,” Phichit said. “I wasn’t really aware of what I’m doing until I heard him talk to you today and felt like my blood was turning to ice. I know you hate it when people call you Christophe.”

“Who told you that?” Chris drew lazy patterns over the skin of Phichit’s bare arm with his fingertips.

“Yuuri. He said when Victor made him drop the formalities and he wasn’t sure what to call you, you said only your father calls you Christophe.”

“That… is true. My parents have this tone on them that just makes my blood curdle.” He looked at Phichit, their faces almost touching. “I don’t mind when you call me Christophe.”

“Sure?” Phichit frowned.

Chris smiled. “I like it. I already liked it when I received your first email and you addressed me like that.”

Phichit sighed. It sounded relieved. “You know, there’s this Bollywood movie the guys and I love, and there’s a song in there that says, ‘I am more beautiful now by saying your name…’ It’s super corny, but this is how I feel. Christophe.”

His fingertips danced over Chris’ perfectly groomed beard. Over his lips.

“Christophe.” He said it again and leaned in for a kiss, and then for a long time they did not speak.

Chris sighed contently when he leaned back against the sofa, a little short of breath.

“You say my name in a way that doesn’t hurt. Where have you been all my life?”

Phichit gave him The Eyebrow. “I was three floors down in the newsroom pining after your sorry ass!”

They stared at each other for a long moment. Outside, ‘ _Right Here Waiting’_ started playing, loud enough for them to hear in here, and Chris snorted a little because it was just so damn fitting.

“Can we sit this one out, too?” Phichit asked. “Our people will all be entangled in happy couples out there.”

Chris nodded. “You want to be entangled in here?”

Phichit laughed. “Yes.”

He pulled him closer for more kisses.

Chris was washing his hands in the men’s room when the door opened. He looked up and their eyes met in the mirror, then they began to laugh.

“Talk about fucking déjà vu,” Chris muttered as Victor closed the door, already unzipping his pants.

He was leaning against the wall by the mirror when Victor came over to wash his hands.

“So here we are again,” Victor said, glancing up briefly at Chris.

“I haven’t checked the bathroom stalls, so I don’t know who’s hiding in there this time.”

Victor chuckled. “Well, it’s not Yuuri, I know, because I just ran away from him and his stamina on the dance floor. Other than that, I don’t care.”

He dried his hands and turned so that he was leaning back against the sink with his back.

“Victor…”

“Chris.”

“There is someone…”

“I know. The light of your life. You’re not ready to show them off. It’s okay.” Victor smiled.

“I hate not telling you, but…” Chris took a deep, determined breath. “I want to do this right for once.”

“That’s fine, Chris. You’ll tell me when you’re ready.”

They let silence settle, let the newly found trust patch some of the wounds they had torn in this very bathroom.

“You know…” Victor started. He bit his lip as be pondered over his next words. “I was watching your father, today, when you said all the these things at the end. And for a moment, Chris… there was something like approval on his face. Almost pride.”

Minutes passed, before Chris gave an answer.

“Even if it was, Victor…” He cleared his throat. With sand paper, at least that’s how it felt. “It’s much too late.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

It was almost 2 AM when Chris got home. He dropped his jacket and tie somewhere on the way from the living room to the kitchen and placed his phone on the breakfast counter as he headed for the fridge. He heard a new message come in just when he reached for the milk because he was craving some hot chocolate to help him fall asleep.

Chris set the bottle down heavily on the counter when he called up the text message with one hand.

**_Phichit Chulanont_ **

_You were amazing today. I just thought you should know._

Another message came in when he had finished stirring the chocolate powder into the milk.

🍑🍑🍑

He chuckled and stared at the peaches for the longest time. Since there was no cream emoji, Chris snapped a photo of the canned whipped cream in his fridge, before he took his mug of hot chocolate up to his bedroom.

He sent the photo to Phichit and went to bed with a smile.


	6. And You Don’t Know What It Means To Be With You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little late again but earlier than last week. Baby steps back to schedule.
> 
> I bought my first gingerbread of this year today. It matches this chapter. :D
> 
> I hope you like. xxx

**6 - And You Don’t Know What It Means To Be With You**

Yuuri’s apartment was filled with voices and most delicious smells when Phichit arrived. It was early Sunday evening, and he had only just got up, having spent several hours gaming with his sister after they all had come home from a stroll across the Christmas market the previous evening. Unlike the others, Phichit had kept his Glühwein count low, but the chocolate covered apple he had brought home with him had proven to be a perfect snack during game-playing that served to make his sister mightily jealous at the same time.

As it turned out everything had already been done, and Yuuri shooed him from the kitchen where he was about to finish getting plates and cutlery ready with Leo and Guang Hong, so Phichit joined Victor and Yura in the living room and sat down in the armchair.

“Sorry…” He grimaced a little sheepishly when his phone hummed in his pocket and he fished it out.

He was glad now he had chosen to sit in the armchair sideways facing the sofa, swinging his legs over the sides like he loved to do. It was the polite way round, not turning his back on Yura and Victor, but it also shielded his phone screen from prying eyes. Part of him hummed with anticipation like his phone hummed again with a new message. He hadn’t seen Chris since the club on Friday night, as his weekend plans had been set in stone for some time. And he would have been lying if he’d said he wasn’t hoping that the messages were from him. They had been texting back and forth whenever there was a chance, but it still didn’t feel the same as laughing about something out loud together, or having dinner looking out at Chris’ garden, or hearing that low, velvety chuckle.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe my brother did that!” Phichit yelled and looked up from his phone, outraged.

Yuuri, Leo and Guang Hong paused what they were doing and looked at each other first, then at Phichit.

“Peach, your brother is the nicest person in the world and a model student who does voluntary work in the very little free time he gets, what could he possibly have done that justifies this reaction?” Leo asked good-humouredly.

Next to each other on the sofa, Victor and Yura were looking on with interest.

“Maybe he cut off his hair.” Yuuri winked at the both of them on his way over from the kitchen.

The frustrated howl Phichit let out made his three best friends laugh out loud and left Victor and Yura looking confused.

“Have you _seen_ Phichit’s brother?” Leo asked. He slumped down beside Yura in the remaining space on the sofa. Both Victor and Yura shook their heads.

“Phichit’s brother is younger than him but taller.” Guang Hong came from the kitchen with a pile of napkins and put them on the coffee table before he let himself be pulled into Leo’s lap. “And he’s very good-looking. Like, super model good-looking. He’s gotten several offers to work as a model or an actor but he declines every single of one them because he wants to become a doctor. He cares nothing about fashion.”

“It causes Phichit a lot of grief,” Yuuri added from the kitchen, a cheeky grin playing around his mouth as he threw a sideways glance towards the living room and Phichit. He took some glasses from the kitchen cabinet and carried them over.

“Of course it does!” Phichit exclaimed very passionately. He was still staring at his phone. “If I had his looks and the job offers he gets, I would screw being a doctor. But no, Ananda Chulanont prefers a thousand years at med school and 96-hour shifts in the hospital! He doesn’t even want fashion or skincare advice from me! He wears those dark circles under his eyes with _pride_ , when he could rake it in just smiling into a camera from time to time.”

“Or whip his hair,” Yuuri teased as he placed the glasses on the coffee table.

“Not anymore,” Phichit huffed gloomily.

“I _knew_ it!” Yuuri came over to him to give Phichit’s hair an affectionate tousle before he leaned over his shoulder. “Did he send a picture?”

“No. Just of his sad, sad wrong decision.” He showed Yuuri his phone and the picture of a pile of long, black tresses on a tiled floor.

Later in the evening, when everyone was sitting together in the living room barely able to move from all the delicious Russian food Victor and Yura and Mila had made, Phichit leaned his head back against the sofa armrest. He was sitting cross-legged on the floor, grinning when Yura huffed at some more praise for his katsudon pirozhki while he couldn’t stop the faint blush of pride in his cheeks from spreading.

“If you ever get sick of being my intern, you can sell those from a food truck, Tiger,” Phichit teased, and laughed when Yura graced him with a little snarl.

Phichit reached for some more of the Russian confectionery on the coffee table that for some reason everyone still seemed to find room for, despite the complaints about having eaten too much. He popped some creamy soft toffee into his mouth and washed it down with black tea from a double walled tea glass standing beside him on the floor. The conversation around him felt like a heavy, warm blanket settling over him. For once, he didn’t feel like saying much. He let his thoughts stray, while listening with one ear how Yura explained how he had decided to combine Yuuri’s katsudon with his grandfather’s pirozhki. A fond smile played around Phichit’s lips as he watched Yura, and then his best friend, and wondered whether Yuuri was even aware of how much Yura liked him. He was fond of Victor too, in a grumpy younger brother kind of way, but he adored Yuuri. Not that Phichit could blame him in any way.

There was that small splinter of bitterness again inside him. Disappointing Yuuri would be so hard. The more time he passed, the deeper the splinter worked its way into Phichit’s heart but he wasn’t ready. He was still gathering courage. It was his no. 1 New Year’s resolution. Telling Yuuri.

Phichit scrambled to his feet where he sat on the floor by the sofa. The vibration of his phone against his thigh had been subtle, still he hoped that nobody had noticed and everyone was too immersed in the fineries of pirozhki making. His body working as a shield, he bent over his phone screen as he wandered over to the kitchen for an alibi drink.

Chris had sent a short video of Rani fighting with the Christmas lights he had strung along the wooden banister all around the first floor landing. It was cute, and it was funny, and it was a punch to the gut to think how Chris was decorating his huge lonely house with only his cat for company.

He was still typing a reply when Victor came into the kitchen.

“Are you’re okay, Phichit?” he asked as he opened the fridge looking for cold drinks.

“Yeah.” Phichit pressed the _Send_ button and slipped his phone back into his pocket. “I just had to think of someone who’s… not surrounded by a bunch of friends tonight.”

And suddenly he felt hot and cold all over, and in far too quick succession. He stared at the fridge door like a deer caught in the headlights, instant relief shooting through him when he saw just the door because Victor was hidden behind it. Phichit breathed out, resisted puffing out his cheek as he used that small moment to compose himself. He wanted to whack himself over the head for saying so much more than he had wanted to. For nearly giving their secret away.

Victor’s head appeared over the fridge door. “Strangely enough…” he mused. “So have I.”

Phichit hurried from the kitchen, feeling exceedingly flustered all of a sudden. He slumped back down in his previous space, dodged Leo’s hand in time when he reached down from his corner of the couch because apparently he had called out to Phichit to bring him some beer from the kitchen. Phichit hadn’t even noticed.

As he grabbed another handful of confectionery from the table, Phichit noticed Yuuri’s gaze on him. He rose his eyebrows in question at Yuuri’s frown, and Yuuri shook his head, and smiled, and yet. It left Phichit feeling an unease that not even the heaviest black Russian tea could wash down.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The next evening Phichit was leaning against Chris’ shoulder as they ate pizza in front of the TV. Time and again he let his eyes wander up to the softly blinking Christmas lights above them on the landing. It gave him a weird mixed feeling of happy contentment and a childish buzz.

“Are you getting a Christmas tree?” he asked in the brief commercial break between a quiz show they were watching, the same they had shouted answers at in their hotel in Switzerland. It had become a regular feature in the evenings they had been spending together since then.

Chris laughed, the movement extrapolating into small ripples through Phichit’s body too.

“Do you think I should?”

“I wouldn’t put it past you to have lavish Christmas parties around one of those huge trees that aren’t restricted by any ceiling because the top can just go up through the opening here where the landing goes around.” Phichit pointed up high towards the first floor ceiling and the void that the landing was leaving wide open above the centre living room area.

“I actually tried doing that in the past but I have this ferocious tigress who doesn’t take kindly to anything upstaging her when it comes to bling bling, even if it’s just a helpless Christmas tree.”

Both their gazes went to the lower half of the other sofa, where Rani was curled up on her cushion, gently wagging her tail while she was dozing. She looked like the sweetest, most complacent cat ever.

The beginning of the evening news found Phichit in Chris’ lap, his knees braced around Chris’ thighs on the sofa while they were kissing like drowning people. Phichit felt it like a rush to the head, the slide of firm wet tongue against his own that sent nerve ends tingling where he was not prepared for it. He felt a need for more, felt it in the way Chris welcomed the claiming of his mouth. The way Chris’ hands dipped under his shirt and caressed the small of his back just very lightly. The way his own hands tugged impatiently on the hem of Chris’ sweater until he found skin and raked his hands over the warmth of a firm, taut stomach. He allowed his hands to move up and make Chris shudder with the way he skimmed his fingertips over sensitive sides. It was the way he caught himself grinding his hips into Chris that made him tear his mouth away. He swallowed hard when he saw the momentary confusion in those deep green eyes, and pulled back lightly.

“Sorry…” Phichit ran one hand through his hair. His chest was rising and falling in quick movements, and he looked like he desperately wanted to scramble off of Chris’ lap but didn’t want to give the impression that he wanted to get away from him. “I… I’m not trying to lead you on, I swear!”

“Phichit.” Chris said his name just as patiently as Phichit felt hysterical. His hands were still on Phichit’s hips, safely over the shirt now, merely preventing him from falling off. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not like that don’t _want_ to!” Phichit insisted. He sounded a little hysterical, even to himself. “It’s just…”

“Phichit!” Chris repeated his name with more insistence. “You don’t have to explain yourself. There’s no rush.”

Phichit swung one leg over Chris thighs and moved himself back onto the couch beside him.

“Really?” He side-eyed him, a little sceptically through the strands of hair falling into his face.

“Really.” Chris smiled.

They watched the news in silence, Phichit leaning against Chris’ side again by the time the weather forecast came on. He wasn’t holding his breath, he told himself, yet when he felt Chris’ arm come around his shoulder once more and squeeze just the lightest bit as if for reassurance, he did exhale almost audibly.

They decided to play pool after the news. It was the first time since the tour Chris had given Phichit on the first day he’d come here that he saw the games room on closer inspection and he burst out laughing. The carpet was a lush burgundy red, the walls wooden panels and above those up to the wooden panel ceiling, dark green wallpaper with intricate geometrical shapes in copper. Phichit wasn’t even surprised when he looked up and saw designer lights, a bronze arm holding three small wire cages with a lightbulb inside each. There was not only the pool table, but also a normal one with a screen and a laptop with speakers and a headset in one corner, giving Chris away as an online gamer and causing a little buzz inside Phichit to find a common interest. One wall sported a glass-fronted cabinet that held a chess board and more board games and jigsaw puzzles than Phichit had ever come across in one place, and he _had_ been to the largest toy stores in the world. Some of them looked really old, the corners of the boxes tattered and white where the paper was peeling off.

“So this is your guilty pleasure?” Phichit swung around to Chris, who was fixing them a drink by the room’s own bar. “Board games and jigsaw puzzles?”

Chris rubbed his temple with two fingers of one hand and shrugged lightly like someone called out.

Smiling, Phichit explored the room further. A wooden cue rack that he was sure was custom-made. An electronic dart board. The largest couch Phichit had ever seen, and it gave the perfect view at a large flat-screen TV on the opposite wall. Several single wooden boards were placed across one wall. One of them held a ceramic piggy bank. Others picture frames that made Phichit step closer with interest.

“Oh my god!” Phichit leaned in close to one picture frame. “You had long hair?!”

In the picture, Chris was sitting at what looked like a beach bar, sporting a dark undercut, but the blond hair on top was obviously long, and tied back in a man bun.

“That was in California.” Chris stepped up beside him and handed him a glass of tonic water with ice and lime slices. Phichit nodded a quiet thanks as he accepted his glass. “Victor and I always wanted to study abroad somewhere, and I was heavily into surfing at the time, so California it was.”

“Did you have that tousled blond beach bum hair?” Phichit asked. Small bubbles of fizzy tonic water met his face when he brought his glass to his mouth.

“I’m afraid I did.” Chris chuckled and took a sip from his own glass. Phichit strongly suspected that it had gin in it as well, unlike his own.

Nodding enigmatically, Phichit stepped away from the picture. It did things to him, and he didn’t want to go there. It would have nullified everything he had told Chris earlier about wanting to take things slow.

“So are we playing or not?” Phichit asked when he was at a safe distance.

Chris turned away from the picture on the shelf in the wall and faced him, nodding.

“What DVD is in the player?” Phichit asked when he was in the lead with three frames won, one hand resting on his cue as he looked at Chris, who was leaning over the pool table getting ready for his shot.

He glanced up momentarily at Phichit, then concentrated on the cue ball and the tip of his cue again, aimed, and hit. Phichit pulled a face when he potted two of his balls at once.

“Always the same.” Chris grinned when he straightened up and reached for the piece of chalk to chalk the tip of his cue.

“Put it on?” Phichit asked as Chris rounded the table to make his next shot from the opposite side. He potted one of Phichit’s object balls by mistake and stepped away from the table, frowning.

Phichit scanned the table for a moment, then walked around one corner and leaned down for his shot. He smiled when he saw Chris step over to the sofa and reach for a remote control to switch on the TV.

They played a best of 9 match, which Phichit won. He raised his arms up with a shout of “Yes!” before he carefully put his cue back on the rack and threw himself down on one side of the sofa.

“This is comfortable,” he exclaimed and closed his eyes for a moment. “Holy shit! I’ve slept in fancy hotel beds that were nowhere near as comfortable as this sofa!”

Sitting up, he slid up until he was leaning with his back against the head, propping up the gold lamé cushions in his back until they were just right for his back to lean into. He watched Chris, who was at this moment putting his own cue away before he covered the pool table with a wooden cover that matched the table as well as the wooden panelling in the room. Phichit waited until he was done and came over to the sofa, where he sat down on the other side, his drink in his hand.

“Christophe.”

Chris turned his face towards him, eyebrows curiously raised.

“About earlier. It’s really not that I don’t want to.”

“Phichit…” Chris put his glass down on a small wooden cube beside the sofa that served as a side table before he turned slightly his way, weight resting on his right hand and left knee drawn up. “Has this been on your mind all this time? We really don’t need to dissect it.”

“No, please let me talk.” Phichit held up one hand in a plea for silence. “I’m not one of those people who are all talk and no play. I really want this. I just… Yuuri doesn’t even know we’re dating. It’s been two weeks.”

“Seventeen days,” Chris said with just the smallest hint of a smile around his lips.

Phichit gaped at him for a moment. He hadn’t expected this. That Chris would keep count.

He took a deep breath. “What I’m trying to say is… everything has been happening so fast. After months of pining, suddenly everything happens really fast. I’m not complaining, I’m not the kind of person who likes to wait around. _Normally!_ ” Phichit added quickly when he saw Chris crinkling his brow in confusion.

“But this… you… it’s different. I need more time.”

“And you have it.” Chris tilted his head very lightly as he looked at him. “I told you, you call the shots. I stand by my word. And this… taking things slowly… I find that it’s good for me too. Not rushing into something for a change. Just spending time with you, having a laugh, getting to know you. I’m enjoying this. And…” He smiled properly now. A little cheekily.

“When you say it’s not that you don’t want to, I understand very well what you mean. I feel the same. And I like the anticipation.”

“Yeah?” Phichit felt his heart beat all the way in his throat all of a sudden.

Chris nodded.

Phichit couldn’t help the grin forming on his face. “Alright.” He nodded as if to himself. Relief seeped through him. “I like it, too.”

They watched another movie, speaking along sometimes because it happened to be a favourite of both of theirs. When Phichit turned his head sideways at one point he saw that Chris was smiling. Moments after he had averted his face again he noticed Chris looking at him from the corner of his eye. Phichit couldn’t not have smiled if he’d wanted to. In the space between them, Phichit reached over with his hand. And the size of this couch was really ridiculous, he thought, because it felt like he was running out of arm length before Chris, without looking, reached out his own hand and met his halfway. Fingers entwined in the space between them, they leaned back against the head of the couch.

When Phichit woke up it was with the dark feeling of dread that he had forgotten something important. He blinked frantically, tried to wake up enough to see where he was. It was not his bedroom. And something was weighing down his legs so that for a moment he thought he was still asleep and caught in a bad dream in which he was paralysed, perhaps. It took him another moment to realise the weight on his legs was warm, and alive, and stirring when he moved. One quiet hiss later he was staring into the narrowed eyes of five kilos of very pissed off cat.

“Sorry!” he whispered frantically. “But I really need to get up.”

Rani turned her back on him, hopped off the couch and sauntered from the room.

Turning his face, Phichit saw his phone a little way away from his head beside a fancy gold lamé cushion. And a little further away, tousled blond curls on a similar cushion. Dread filled him when his eyes adjusted to the dim light in the room. It was barely forcing its way in through slits in the heavy curtains but he didn’t need to look at the display of his phone to know it was undeniably the brave light grey shimmer of a winter morning.

“Shit.” Checking his phone, with his face contorted and his eyes squeezed shut and only one opening very carefully, confirmed his fears. “ _Shit!_ ”

He sat up and struggled for an endless moment because there was a blanket covering the lower half of his legs and he had entangled himself in it good in his sleep. His mind was in severe panic mode now and he was muttering to himself when he finally jumped up and rounded the couch in no time.

“Chris… _Chris!_ ” He started shaking him gently by the shoulder, faintly aware of calling him by the shortened version of his name like his brain was frantically telling that every syllable was costing too much time. Chris stirred, and murmured something incomprehensible that sounded all kinds of sexy and would have sent shivers down Phichit’s spine in any other moment.

After what felt like a small lifetime, Chris’ eyes finally opened, just the slightest bit. It would have to do.

“We fell asleep!” Phichit uttered hysterically. “It’s morning! I have to go home and get changed for work!”

Chris made a sound, low and deep in his throat. Phichit decided to take it as acknowledgment.

“Talk to you at work!” he called back quietly over his shoulder as he hurried to the door.

“Drive carefully!” Chris muttered sleepily after him, before he turned over and closed his eyes once again.

Phichit felt a small smile on his lips as he ran up the main stairs and found his coat in the wardrobe, his laptop bag on the couch by the door where he had dropped it the day before upon his arrival. He cursed the many buckles of his boots as he struggled to get them on in a hurry. Rani looked at him through the slit of one eye where she throned on her cushion now, and Phichit said a quick goodbye to her as he let himself out into the frosty December morning.

He was good for time, early morning traffic still being quiet, and by the time he reached home and called the lift he had managed to calm himself down enough to slow, steady breaths. He could still make it, slip into his apartment and change in record time, and walk out only the tiniest bit later than he usually did.

Chris’ words came back to his mind, the open concern about him driving carefully, and the stories they had exchanged until late. No wonder they had fallen asleep. The man had a voice he should be selling audio books with, Phichit thought, and his smile deepened, became almost giddy by the time the lift stopped on his floor. The slow, steady breaths caught in his throat and the smile froze on his face when he stepped out of the lift and turned towards his apartment. Next to his door, leaning with his back against the wall and looking up when the lift arrived on their floor and the door slid open, was Yuuri.

It cost him all his strength to keep walking up to his door. His legs felt like lead all of a sudden. Yuuri gave him the once-over, and Phichit had never felt more uncomfortable around his best friend than right at his moment.

“Good night?” Yuuri finally asked. He sounded casual, one eyebrow curiously raised. But Phichit knew him well, he was well aware of the subdued ‘Where the hell are you coming from at his time of the morning in the very same clothes you wore yesterday?’

“Ah, you know me, Yuuri.” He grinned and shook his head with a deliberately cheerful movement. “I don’t like bringing someone home but rather want to decide myself when it’s time to up and leave.”

Yuuri nodded and made that low humming sound of contentment at the back of his throat.

“Anyway, this is not the time and place to talk about it,” he said at last. He didn’t look angry, or hurt, Phichit registered and felt relieved. He swallowed hard, almost scared to grasp the safety buoy suddenly in front of him.

Yuuri gave him a reassuring smile. He lifted his wrist, one finger tapping an imaginary watch three times like a reminder where they were and what time it was. Yuuri hated being late, for work or anything else. It was something that did he took great pains to avoid. “We’ll be late for work. You’d better hurry.”

Nodding, Phichit turned around to open his door.

“Phichit.”

Phichit felt his hand still with the key in the lock. It was serious when Yuuri used his full name.

“You know can you tell my anything. I love you, no matter what.”

Phichit looked up. “I’ll be quick!” he promised and did not close his front door but left it slightly ajar. He got changed and washed his face and styled his hair with his fingers and a little gel in record time.

Leo was just stepping out of his door when Phichit was back in the hallway.

“Sorry.” Leo stifled a hearty yawn behind one hand. “Overslept.” Behind him, Guang Hong gave them a little wave before he closed the door.

Yuuri shook his head. “Making all of us late, Leo,” he grinned and winked at Phichit.

“We’re good, aren’t we?” Phichit asked in the car as he was driving in to work. He looked at Yuuri beside him when he stopped at a red light.

“Of course we are.” Yuuri smiled at him, and gave his arm the lightest nudge of affirmation.

That’s why I’m so afraid, Phichit thought as the lights turned green and he changed gears.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Sunday was Thai night and Phichit showed up at Yuuri’s apartment in the afternoon to enlist both Yuuri and Victor in chopping vegetables while he made the sauce that would later go over the sticky ribs he had already left marinating in the fridge since the previous evening. They were chatting away, laughing, and Phichit tried to ignore the nagging feeling at the back of his mind that tried to remind him of how they could be four people around Yuuri’s kitchen table now, two couples, two pairs of best friends. He just about mastered not to sigh over the chicken he was flattening and piercing with skewers on a baking tray and covering generously in another marinade he had made just now. For a moment the pondered over just telling them. As long as it was just the three of them. Victor was Chris’ best friend, after all. But as he looked up from the chicken and saw them sneaking in a sly kiss over the herbs he had given them to chop, smiles so silly and in love while their foreheads touched for a moment before they went back to work, Phichit knew he couldn’t. He turned back to the task at hand, rubbing marinade into chilled, fleshy chicken thighs. Yuuri was so happy. The thought of wiping that happy smile off his face caused him almost physical pain. And even though Chris had left it to him to run this show, Phichit was pretty sure he wanted to tell Victor himself. He couldn’t be this intrusive.

Once all the preparations were done and all they had left to do was wait for the others to arrive, they decided to watch _Love… Actually_ yet again. The tangy aroma of the ribs was weaving all the way over to where they were sitting, Phichit back sideways in the armchair with his legs swinging over the side. They laughed through the scene where Rowan Atkinson as a shop clerk starts an exaggerated, infuriating gift-wrapping process until Alan Rickman loses his nerve and asks, _‘You’re gonna dip it in yoghurt? Cover it with chocolate buttons?’_

“Okay, who else always has to think of a cock dipped in yoghurt here?” Phichit asked.

In the sofa corner, both Yuuri and Victor burst out laughing.

“Peach, you really need to get laid,” Yuuri said. “You’re seeing cock everywhere.”

Phichit huffed out a wonky laugh, but quietly had to admit that Yuuri was right. He was getting so worked up every time he was with Chris, it was beginning to feel like an addiction, the fuzzy feeling of anticipation in his stomach. And below, if he was very honest with himself.

An incoming message distracted him from the movie for a moment. Once he had read it, he looked up at Yuuri. “My family wants to Skype. How do they always know when it’s Thai night??”

Yuuri’s face lit up. “Great.” To Victor, he added, “It’s always so much fun, talking to Phichit’s family.”

“Yes, for _you_.” Phichit pretended to be in great pain, but he swung his legs to the front and stood up, announcing that he would go get this laptop from next door.

Guang Hong and Leo were just arriving when he came back, as delighted as Yuuri about the prospect of a video call from Phichit’s family.

“You’re in for a treat,” Leo grinned at Victor. He set up Phichit’s laptop on the coffee table with the screen facing Yuuri’s sofa, while Phichit checked on the food in the kitchen.

Guang Hong sat down beside Victor on the couch. Leo perched on the armrest beside him, ready to stretch into the picture whenever he felt like it.

“You need to turn off the voice assistent on your phone for this?” Victor asked Guang Hong with a frown as he leaned over to look at what he was doing.

“You’ll see why,” Yuuri smiled. He was just putting his own phone away, no doubt after a similar action.

Phichit came back from the kitchen and sat down on the floor right in front of the couch, resting with his back against Guang Hong’s shins for a moment. Then he leaned forward and unlocked his laptop screen. The call was already coming in before he was able to start it, so he simply accepted it and moved back against the couch and Guang Hong’s legs once more.

The next moment, a similar picture to what his family would be seeing now appeared on the laptop screen. A sofa in a living room at the other end of the world, the pattern so familiar that Phichit thought he could feel the smooth upholstery under his fingers if he reached out his hand.

Four woman were squeezing on the sofa, very obviously three generations, three of them launching into loud and heartfelt greetings right away as soon as the call connected. A loud mix of “sawasdee khaa” and “Hello” and “How are you?” went back and forth for minutes. Phichit’s mother and grandmother were in the middle of the sofa, both very beautiful women, age being the only noticeable difference in their appearance.

“sawasdee khrap.” Phichit greeted them with a slight bow, his palms pressed together like in prayer.

A teenaged girl was sitting to the right of Phichit’s grandmother. She was the only one who had not said anything yet.

“Hi Siri!” Guang Hong said cheerfully and waved at the camera. The girl blushed and nodded, but did not say a word. Instead, she leaned back just the slightest bit, almost as if she was seeking comfort behind her grandmother’s arm. Which was not too hard because Phichit’s grandmother took a very vivid interest in what she saw on her screen and inched a little forward to the edge of the couch, leaning forward to see better.

“Who is this extremely good-looking young man on the couch?” she asked.

“This is Victor, grandma,” Phichit threw in, pointing lightly up over his shoulder. “Yuuri’s boyfriend.”

Victor waved “Hi!” at the camera and laughed when Phichit’s mother and grandmother and older sister started making excited noises, chattering animatedly in Thai, while Phichit groaned with embarrassment and buried his face in both hands, and on screen, his younger sister whispered something in her grandmother’s ear before hiding again.

“Oooooh, he’s so handsome!” Phichit’s grandmother actually clapped her hands in delight. “Well done, Yuuri!”

Yuuri blushed and muttered a timid “Thank you” but he was snorting quietly with laughter.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Victor. Yuuri is a good boy, and he has such good taste!”

“Grandma, please. Your Blanche is showing.” Phichit rolled his eyes. She was most definitely flirting. Loud laughter answered him from the laptop screen, but also from all around him.

Phichit’s eyes narrowed as he focussed on someone he had seen walk into his parents’ living room in the background of the screen.

“Well, well, look who’s gracing us with his presence,” he remarked. “Sunday studies already over?”

An extremely good-looking young man leaned over the back of the sofa between Phichit’s mother and grandmother and peered at the camera with a smirk.

“Taking a break from it today especially to show off my haircut.” He turned his head this way and that to show off the neatly cropped sides. “How d’you like my new do, Shorty?”

“You never deserved your hair in the first place.” Phichit snapped at the screen, but both him and his brother were laughing the next moment, exchanging some more brotherly banter before he went back to his studies, not without dramatically touching his cropped hair again for Phichit’s annoyance.

Phichit’s father unfortunately couldn’t be there for the call as he was stuck in an emergency surgery, they informed him. And of course his mother wanted to know what he was making for dinner.

“Did you remember to put the ribs in the oven early? They need to cook long and slow or they won’t be tender!”

“Yes, I did, mum,” Phichit said obediently. “But they never taste as good as yours anyway.”

“That’s because you don’t have my secret ingredient.”

“And why didn’t you give this to your son when you let him out in the great big world on his own?” he teased.

“Because they still haven’t found a way to put mother’s love in bottles and pass it on.” She laughed.

“ _Mae_ …” Phichit made a face like he wanted to hop into his laptop screen to hug her, while around him his friends started making more or less subdued “Awww!” noises and on screen both his sisters rolled their eyes. But Phichit, suddenly, felt very, very homesick.

Yura arrived and was dragged in front of the camera by Leo who had let him in and presented him as Phichit’s intern now, much to the delight of Phichit’s grandmother who stated that she had would have travelled to Russia a long time ago had she only known how good-looking the men were there.

Phichit buried his face in his hands.

His mother reckoned Yura was much too skinny though and reminded them all to look after him and make sure he was eating enough. Phichit dared comment that they should see the vast amounts of food that disappeared in this skinny body, but it seemed as though his intern was suddenly his whole family’s too and Yura himself threw him a wolfish grin and said he’d better listen to his mum.

Leaning back against Guang Hong’s legs, Phichit watched and listened how his friends interacted with his family on screen, English the common language that connected them all while it was native language to none of them except Leo. He felt once again as if his family had simply adopted all the people closest to him like their own, and suddenly Phichit had to think of Chris. What would they make of him? After all they had heard about him? He knew his father had kept his secret, even from his mother, which was no easy feat for him and Phichit loved and respected him more than ever for this. How would Chris feel, meeting his family? Phichit tried to imagine the loud, animated Thai chatter of the women in his life resounding in Chris’ big house, and he couldn’t. But he realised he wanted to. Already now, he wanted to. He wanted his grandmother flirting with him and his mother fretting over him being too skinny and needing to be fed.

He still thought about it long after the call had ended and Sara and Mila had arrived, and they were all sitting around Yuuri’s kitchen table, digging into tangy ribs and spicy chicken and toasting each other with Singha beer. Soon the conversation centred on everyone’s Christmas plans.

“Usually the four of us pig out together from Christmas Eve until the shops open again on the 27th,” Leo said, casting fond looks at Guang Hong, Phichit and Yuuri. “But I actually managed to book one of those cabins in the mountains, so Guang Hong and I are leaving for a little snowboarding holiday early on Christmas Day until his birthday.”

Everyone started “Oooooh!”ing and making suggestive noises and remarks that caused Guang Hong to blush and Leo to lean back in his chair with a smug grin.

“Isn’t Christmas Day _your_ birthday, Victor?” Guang Hong asked, flushed crimson up to the roots of his hair, eager to draw attention away from himself. 

Victor nodded. He shifted in his seat, his arm slung over the back of Yuuri’s chair right next to him. “Normally I have dinner with Yakov and Lilia and Milochka on Christmas Eve and then get drunk on my birthday with Chris, but this year…”

He looked at Yuuri, who smiled and blushed at the same time. More teasing and wolf whistles ensued.

“We won’t be here this year anyway,” Mila said. “Sara’s parents have invited me and Emil to Milan for Christmas, and the invitation extends to family, so Emil’s family will be there, and Yakov and Lilia are also invited. And they have actually agreed to come. That means Yuratchka has to come, too.”

Yura’s words did not sound not unlike barking. “I’m only coming because we’re going to Russia afterwards for New Year and I get to see my grandfather! It’s not like I want to go! I was going to hang out with Beka.”

“Wait till you see the food, Yuratchka.” Victor smiled. “Sara’s mamma is going to feed you so well you’ll never want to leave.”

Yura huffed a little and reached for another chicken leg, but the mention of food seemed to have improved his mood already.

“What are you going to do, Phichit?”

He looked up when Sara addressed him.

“I have an online date with my sister.” He grinned. “No sleep, just gaming until we fall over from exhaustion.”

“See, that’s what I was going to do too, with Beka!” Yura piped up.

“You can do that from Milan, too, Tiger.” Phichit raised his glass in a toast.

“Can I?” Yura’s head whipped around and he looked hopefully at Sara.

She laughed. “If Emil lets you near the gaming console, I’m sure you can.”

Pondering over his beer glass, Phichit found himself watching Sara. The way she was with Mila, their hands touching under the table, her head tilted when Mila said something and she listened intently. The way she was with Victor, the ease between them that went back to their childhood. How they sometimes stuck their heads together and burst out laughing about some insider joke only they knew. The way they touched, fingers brushing a back, a head resting against a shoulder, sometimes hands squeezing affectionately. It reminded him of his own siblings, and of the friendship he shared with Yuuri, and Leo and Guang Hong. This unabashed physical display of affection without the slightest ambiguity. And suddenly he longed to see Sara with Chris. Would they be the same? Would they be different? The wish to have Chris here among them on nights like this was suddenly overwhelming. And it was scary. Phichit had not reckoned with this so soon.

His eyes met Victor’s across the table, and he was reminded of the previous Sunday when he had almost given his secret away. Trying to shake off the curiosity he believed to see in Victor’s gaze, Phichit sat up straighter in his seat, raised his glass with a broad grin, and downed its contents in one go.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Yuuri’s apartment glittered and shone with the lights of countless Christmas fairy lights Phichit and Victor had spent a great part of the morning stringing along every wall and window while Yuuri and Guang Hong were cooking and Leo braved the last minute Christmas shoppers to get drinks from the supermarket. They had moved the living room furniture so that they could set up the dinner table there.

Because European ovens were not made to fit a whole turkey in them, at least not those in their apartment complex, they stuck with turkey legs and fried chicken. Yuuri couldn’t explain why it was such a popular Christmas food in Japan, but he admitted that he missed it when he didn’t have fried chicken at Christmas, so they had tested several recipes until they found the one that tasted closest to Yuuri’s favourite from home.

They exchanged presents and moved the table and chairs out of the way again so that they could watch Christmas movies in their usual spots on the sofa, Victor’s armchair pushed as close as possible to the sofa corner in which Yuuri sat, Phichit on the carpet in front of Leo who had Guang Hong snuggling back against him in the sofa corner. The coffee table was loaded with Christmas chocolates and tangerines and oranges, and even though they all complained that they couldn’t possibly eat any more, they all reached constantly for something from the table. They lost count of the Glühwein they drank, but Yuuri put Victor to bed at some point, and Leo almost carried Guang Hong down to the hall to their apartment. Phichit struggled a little unlocking his door, but he managed to send a message to Chris wishing him a merry Christmas before he stripped out of his clothes and fell into bed.

On Christmas Day, Phichit got up early to see Leo and Guang Hong off. He hugged Leo tight, before Leo went to check the boot of his car again to make sure they hadn’t forgotten anything.

“This time when Leo starts behaving funny just don’t do anything and let it happen, okay?”

Phichit looked to his right and saw Yuuri and Guang Hong sticking their heads together.

“There are no Asian tourists in your cabin to screw things up,” Yuuri was saying quietly, his hands on Guang Hong’s shoulder. They both laughed, and a delightful blush coloured Guang Hong’s face.

“Do you think one of them will finally manage a successful proposal this time?” Yuuri asked as they stood side by side watching Leo’s car until it disappeared around the bend at the end of their street, not unlike parents who see their kids go off on a school trip.

“I have briefed the shit out of Leo, if he screws up one more time I give up,” Phichit replied with a grin. He stepped a little closer, until his shoulder touched Yuuri’s.

“Merry Christmas, Yuuri.” Phichit leaned his head against Yuuri’s. He smiled when he felt the pressure of Yuuri’s head press back against his own.

“Merry Christmas, Peach.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The same afternoon, darkness already bringing out the full magic of the fairy lights in the garden and making them look exceedingly Christmasy, Phichit was sitting in his by now usual spot opposite Chris at the dinner table. He had whipped up a last minute Christmas meal from some duck breast, potatoes and Brussels sprouts he had stored in his fridge just in case it would come to this. Chris had laughed when he opened the door to him, and Phichit’s eyes had widened when he found himself pulled in for a kiss.

He only saw the mistletoe above the door when he had stepped down to the next area and turned around to wait for Chris who was taking his coat to the wardrobe.

“Smart move, Christophe.” They had grinned at each other when they made their way to the kitchen.

“We should play a game,” Phichit suggested as dinner was drawing near its end and they were debating about what to do with the evening. He gesticulated briefly with a sprout pierced on his fork before he put it in his mouth.

Chris took a sip from his wine glass. “Like what? Truth or dare?”

“No,” Phichit said once he had finished chewing and swallowing. “No dare. Just truth. I only want truths between the two of us.”

Chris nodded. “Fair enough.”

“You can start.” Phichit wriggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Chris chuckled into his glass and seemed to think about it for a moment. When he looked up, his eyes seemed unreadable behind his glasses. “You know about my ex boyfriend,” he said. “What about yours?”

“Oh.” Phichit dabbed at his mouth with the napkin and picked up his own glass. “I’m picky. There was only one serious relationship. I met him at college in the US, because I didn’t dare date guys back home in Thailand. So… aside from some flings that started out promising and led nowhere pretty soon, I had one steady boyfriend who first met me when I was wearing a short skirt and my feather boa to a dorm party.”

“I remember that feather boa,” Chris mused. “It’s draped over the pinboard in your bedroom?”

Phichit nodded. “It’s accompanied me through many highs and lows. Including my first great heartache.”

“What happened?” Chris circled the wine glass in his hand.

Phichit stared at the remnants of sauce on his plate and the last lonely sprout sitting in its middle. On a whim, he picked up his fork again and poked the sprout, drawing it through the sauce without eating it.

“He was about to cheat on me,” he said as he looked up again. “Unfortunately… well, unfortunately for him, not for me, he wasn’t very subtle about it. If not to say downright stupid. He made it very easy for me to end things first.”

The way he said it made Chris raise his eyebrows curiously. “What did you do?”

Phichit put down his fork again. He had to bite back a grin. Only very few people knew this. His parents would have a fit if they ever found out. “I sabotaged his date with that other guy by sauntering in wearing my feather boa and hot pants and a mesh top, put on my best flamboyant fake gay voice and went, ‘Oh, honey, is this the one you picked for our threesome? He’s so cute!’”

Chris started to laugh. “Did it work?”

“Like a charm. We were over five minutes later, I went home, threw all this stuff out on the dorm lawn, and ate three tubs of ice-cream that tasted salty because I cried into it so much.”

“Any other scary break-ups stories I should know?” Chris winked.

“Not really… well. There was the one who thought he had got himself a Thai lady boy one night in a club. I might have accidentally stepped on his crotch.”

“How do you accidentally step on someone’s crotch?” Chris nearly choked on a mouthful of wine.

“I was dancing and doing a kick in my platform heels and he was standing too close to the stage. It was very unfortunate.” Phichit looked at him from under his lashes.

“I bet it was.” Chris laughed.

“I haven’t been really interested in a lot of people since then.”

_Not until you._ The words were silent but loud as a scream between them.

“I get bored very easily.”

“That’s… comforting.” Chris smiled.

“No, I don’t mean it like that. When I get bored it doesn’t go beyond a second date. So you’re safe in that respect.”

Chris smiled and nodded.

“My turn?” Phichit asked. Chris nodded again.

“Did you sleep with the concierge in your hotel in Milan?”

“A long time ago, yes. I suppose Yuuri told you Paolo and I were quite cozy with each other.”

Phichit nodded.

“It’s just meaningless banter… okay, flirting.” He corrected himself when he saw Phichit’s eyebrow movement. “But no more than that has been happening for a long time.”

Phichit accepted the answer quietly, but there was one more question at the back of his mind. He drank some wine, suddenly feeling like he needed the courage. “So while you were with waste of space, did you have one night stands?”

“Yes.”

Phichit nodded once more. He looked down at the table, frowned at the forgotten sprout.

“Phichit, I…”

“No.” Phichit looked up and shook his head. “I went into this with exactly this assumption. It’s not like I’m shocked or anything. Or digesting. Or maybe I am. But it’s nothing that I did not expect, so…”

He took a deep breath.

“We said we would be honest with each other,” Chris reminded him. “I’m not proud of it, and I want you to know that it’s not something I do in a relationship. The only explanation I have, is that is wasn’t a good relationship to begin with. I will understand of course if this makes you have second thoughts and you would rather not… continue this.”

Phichit’s head whipped up. “Oh my god, Christophe, you need to stop making assumptions about what it is that will make me break up with you. If I find that thing, and I said _if_ , not when, you’ll be the first to know. Okay?”

For a long moment they stared at each other in silence. Finally, Chris nodded.

“One last question?” Chris put down his glass.

Phichit looked expectantly across the table.

“Do you want to stay over? In one of the guest rooms?”

Phichit had already opened his mouth to ask if this was a good idea, but the next question made him close it again. He thought about his apartment, so much quieter right now because his best friends who were usually only a few steps away were not home and wouldn’t be for the next couple of days, and suddenly he didn’t want to go home. He wanted to stay here, look out at this garden, and watch lame Christmas TV with Chris while Rani lay across his legs and purred loudly.

Phichit smiled at Chris across the table. “Okay,” he said softly.

He was already lazing in one corner of the couch in front of the TV while Chris insisted he didn’t need help in the kitchen and Phichit should make himself at home, when his phone vibrated with an incoming message. Knowing Chris busy in the kitchen, Phichit picked it up to read it. His eyes nearly popped out of his head when he saw it was his sister, replying to his earlier message that he couldn’t make their gaming date.

_> > It’s okay. I already heard from Dad that you’ve found a new joystick to play with this Christmas. _😋

Instead of replying back to his sister, he texted his father.

_< < Did you _ **_have_ ** _to tell Siri???_

His father replied right away.

_> > Phichit, you have teased your siblings so many times about the people they’re dating, it’s only fair they get to do the same. Merry Christmas!_

Phichit looked up when Chris came in with a tray holding plates of cheese, gingerbread, Stollen, and two mugs of steaming Glühwein. He muted his phone and placed it out of sight, then moved further into the sofa corner to make room for Chris.

“We have a choice between _Sissi_ , _Titanic_ and _Little Lord Fauntleroy_.” Phichit pointed at the TV screen.

“I hate _Little Lord Fauntleroy_ ,” Chris said and placed the tray on the table in front of the couch.

“Me too.” Phichit nodded, relieved.

“The other two are terribly corny.” Chris sat down beside him and handed him a mug of Glühwein. “This might help.”

“It’s Christmas,” Phichit smiled and wriggled around on the couch until he was as snug as possible against Chris’ side and felt his arm around his shoulder. “Corny is good.”

Their mugs came together with a low clank while they watched _Titanic_ , vowing to never tell anyone how they had to laugh about the poor sod who fell down when the ship burst in two and bounced off the chimney before he was hurled into the water.

Chris said he wanted to stay awake for _It’s a Wonderful Life_ and failed every year because it was on so late.

This year, Phichit shook him gently awake where he had dozed off on the couch. He made some black tea and they had it with Stollen while they watched the movie.

In the middle of the night Chris got the guest room at the end of the first floor ready and presented Phichit with a new toothbrush and a pair of Burberry pyjamas that were still unpacked. They were too long for Phichit but so comfortable that he vowed to stay in them all Boxing Day.

He did. He insisted Chris stayed in pyjamas all day too, and they spent the morning cuddled up on the couch watching Russian fairytales and eating crap, as Christmas should be spent.

“Phichit.”

It was almost lunch time and they were in the kitchen, going through Chris’ cabinets for some pasta and canned tomatoes that Phichit was going to throw together into a meal. At least dessert was settled, because Phichit had brought Chris a Christmas present - a bottle of actual cream from the organic dairy farmer Chris bought his milk from, a glass of peaches conserved in syrup, and fancy dark chocolate.

“Yeah?” Phichit looked up from the pack of lemon tagliatelle in his hands.

“What would you have done? Over Christmas, I mean. If you hadn’t come here.”

“Oh…” Phichit smiled. “Playing online games with my sister. We play a game together and meet online, and then we just wander around a fantasy world and do quests. Slaying monsters and the like, sometimes combat with other players.” Who are actually our grandmother who kicks our butts, he added silently.

He cocked his head. “What would _you_ be doing?”

Chris shrugged. “Reading, petting Rani, and eating cheese platters, I guess.”

“Mhm.” Phichit pushed out his bottom lip in thought, his face contorting.

“Do you think…” Phichit said at the same time that Chris said “If you want to…”

They laughed, regained composure, trying to find the right words to go on.

“I don’t want you having to let your sister down,” Chris said at last.

“But I want to be here!” Phichit insisted. “Unless you… would rather be alone and read?”

“No.” Chris shook his head. “I like having you here.”

“But you can read while I’m here?” Phichit grinned, suddenly noticing in which direction this was heading.

“You could play here, too. I saw your screen and the controller and the headset when I looked for a pen and paper to write you that note, and you’ve seen my game room. I’ve got all that, all you need to log into your game and log out afterwards… I suppose?”

“Isn’t that weird?” Phichit frowned, but his mind was already reeling, his fingers itching to text his sister that they were on after all _and_ he wouldn’t have to choose between her and Chris for it.

“If we take things further and this relationship lasts longer, wouldn’t we do that anyway, eventually?”

He had a point. Phichit hadn’t thought that far. It was still so new, so exciting.

“So why don’t you text your sister and ask if she still wants to play?”

Phichit had to grin. “Why don’t you get some water boiling for the pasta while I get my phone?”

It felt like the next level of their relationship, Phichit thought. Doing their own thing, but together. He was seated in front of the screen in the games room, a plate of peaches and cream beside the keyboard. He had moved everything to one small side of the table so that he wouldn’t have his back turned on Chris but could actually see him where he was reading on the couch, his own dessert beside him. They hadn’t been able to make it without laughing, Chris watching with interest how Phichit dug up a hand mixer from one of his cabinets and whipped actual cream.

“This is way better than the canned stuff!” Chris exclaimed after the first spoon that he ate directly in the kitchen.

Phichit merely raised his eyebrows at him in a knowing manner and led the way to the games room.

“Is he there?” Phichit’s sister asked at some point, when they had successfully cleared the first part of their quest and were going through their stats and pondering whether they had enough potions for the next one.

Phichit let his eyes dart towards the couch, where Chris was sitting against the back, one knee drawn up, the other leg stretched out.

“Yeah,” he replied. “Do you want to talk to him?”

Chris looked up from his book and over to him for a moment. Phichit noted from the corner of his eye, but he kept his eyes on the computer screen. A smile played around his lips.

“No,” his sister said.

“Of course not,” he teased. “You’re a female Raj Koothrappali. You cannot talk to boys.”

“Shut up, Apricot!” she replied, but he could hear the smile in her voice, and he was absolutely sure she was blushing.

A few hours, a successful quest and their traditional thrashing from Lucifer666 later, Phichit was saying goodbye, one hand already on the headset, ready to take it off, when she spoke up again.

“Phi?”

“Mhm?”

“Say Hi to him from me.”

A wide smile took over Phichit’s face. “I will,” he promised.

Once he had logged out of the game, switched everything off and moved it back into their original spot, he walked over to the sofa and crawled over until he could sit cross-legged close to Chris, his knees almost touching Chris’ legs.

“My sister says Hi,” he said. “Which is more than she has said to Yuuri, Guang Hong or Leo in all the time I’ve known them.”

It was obvious that for a moment, Chris didn’t know what to say. It touched Phichit deep down inside.

“What are you doing on New Year’s Eve?” he asked to change the subject.

“Oh.” Chris put down his book by his side, open on the page he was at. “You know, I have this dream of going to bed before midnight on New Year’s Eve and sleep through all the fuss.”

Phichit gaped. “Really? You can’t stay home alone on New Year’s Eve!”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s New Year’s Eve!” Phichit looked at him in disbelief.

Chris sighed deeply. “Phichit, I’ve had one hell of a year. I just want to… ring it out in peace. Start the new one with a clean slate.” He smiled. “I bet you’re invited to at least three flashy New Year’s Eve parties.”

Phichit blushed a little. “Just two. One of them is actually a masked ball. Would you… like to come with me? Nobody would recognise us.”

It was a huge step, and the suggestion alone made Phichit feel physically sick for a moment.

Regret washed over Chris’ face. “Any other time I would love nothing more. Not this time though.”

“I hate the thought that you’ll be all alone on New Year’s Eve.” Phichit cocked his head. “It’s…”

“It’s what, Phichit? Pathetic?” Chris smiled, a little melancholy.

“No. Sad. Lonely. You’re already lonely enough. And I’m scared you’ll be… depressed?”

“I might well be. But it’s New Year’s Eve, many people feel depressed on New Year’s Eve.” He placed one hand over Phichit’s where he was holding his own knee. Their fingers almost instantly curled around each other. “I’ll be fine. I need you to trust me, Phichit. I promise I won’t do anything stupid.”

Phichit watched him carefully for a long moment. His eyes behind the round frames of his glasses were sincere. And determined. It didn’t mean that Phichit liked what he saw, but he liked the fact _that_ he saw it.

“Can I come over on New Year’s Day?” he asked.

Chris smiled. “I’d love that.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

When darkness settled on New Year’s Eve, Chris was standing in his garden, staring into the flames dancing in the steel shell of the fire pit on his terrace. He watched the picture catch fire, Sebastien’s face contorting and singeing under the onslaught of flames.

One after the other, he threw what he had thought his little treasures into the fire. Opera tickets and programmes. Cinema tickets. He watched them burn, and with them the memories of the dinner they had had before, and the walks by the Seine. A Valentine’s Day card. The invitation to a vernissage curated by his mother. Copies of documents that had been his lifeline during their company crisis while he was on site in Turkey and that he didn’t need anymore now. His notes for the press conference. Notes in Yuuri’s handwriting that had messages from his father’s phone calls. A receipt from the bar for part of the drinks he had had at the Christmas party. It seemed more than fitting that he had something to burn from that night.

It was like watching this whole arsehole of a year go up in flames.

He heard a low snivelling sound and realised he was crying. He didn’t wipe his tears.

He thought back at the past days. Whole days spent in his pyjamas, like he hadn’t for an absolute eternity. When Phichit had got dressed to go home in the morning of the 27th to get changed, only to stand on his doorstep again in the afternoon with an overnight bag and several bags of groceries for cooking, Chris had almost felt regret to see him in normal clothes again. It had felt like they were back in Switzerland, in a world of their own. Eating together, laughing together, yelling answers at quiz shows on TV.

Kissing. Feeling anticipation build and become deliciously much when they went to sleep in separate beds at night, knowing that if they shared a bed again they might not stay on their sides. The mutual wish to take baby steps. It felt wholesome. Like nothing Chris had ever experienced before. All these little soothing moments, and each one seemed to fill a new crack in what he felt was his broken self. That excited palpitation of his heart in that brief moment between the door bell ringing and him opening the door.

He felt a smile fight its way through his tears. He missed Phichit and he was glad Phichit wasn’t here to see him like this. Couldn’t see his demons. Or hear them, their ugly snivelling crying.

When all he wanted to let go of was gone and he had made sure the fire was out completely, Chris went back inside. He watched _Dinner for One_ and laughed his way through the same old jokes. Rani was curled up in his lap and he ran his hands over her back in slow caresses, her purring soothing him, while he ate cheese and drank red wine.

He was through his second bottle of red wine before ten o’clock and slowly made his way upstairs. Rani followed suit, the softness of her fur against his ankles a welcome comfort. She settled on the lower end of his bed as he went to sleep, just shut out the world and this past year, willing himself to dream of a better one to begin in just a few hours and bring Phichit here again.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

On New Year’s Day, Chris was woken by the insistent ringing of his phone. His head was a little heavy from the red wine, but he was more composed than he could remember having been at the beginning of a new year for the longest time.

He checked the display before he picked up the call.

“Sara.” His first word of the new year was more of a growl than a word yet. “I appreciate you calling to wish me a happy new year but don’t you think it could have waited a little longer?”

He frowned and held the phone away from his ear until he could hear the flood of Italian expletives trickle down. Once the phone was back at his ear and he heard Sara’s voice again, calmer now but just as passionate, he felt the ground hurl towards him as if he had drunk dry a well of champagne the night before.

“Chris! It’s waste of space. He put your nudes online.”


	7. Where My Demons Hide

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um. Yes. 🙈 I suck at updating on time. 
> 
> I hope you like. xxx

**7 - Where My Demons Hide**

Chris spent an hour on the phone with Luca and another hour smoking on his terrace. There goes my first resolution, he thought when he fished the cigarettes out the trash he had thrown them in only the night before. He lit up one after the other, trying to get his shaking hands under control, and then realised the nicotine could only soothe him so much with he treacherous calm it laced over his nerves. Too many things were in disarray inside him, too much making him tremble with too many emotions. He was staring into nothing until he shook himself out of his trance and realised he was freezing cold. Back inside, he threw the cigarettes on the living room table and went upstairs. He took a hot shower to warm himself up, cursing under the spray and hating Sébastien, and hating himself for ever being so stupid as to believe that it was anything remotely serious, and hating this new year already that was only a few hours old. He brushed his teeth forever, suddenly disgusted by the taste the cigarettes had left in his mouth.

Out of all the things he found himself having to do, texting Phichit and asking to postpone their date was the hardest. But he couldn’t possibly face Phichit now, when he felt like he wasn’t worthy even of his own reflection in the mirror, leave along the eyes of someone who did not look at him with disdain.

He sat on his bed in his towel robe for the longest time, the hand holding his phone sunk down on the bed. His eyes wanted to return to the display even though the words were burnt onto the inside of his eyes and he could see them even when he closed them to fight back the tears that wanted to fall.

**_Phichit Chulanont_ **

_Okay. Of course. Let me know if there’s anything I can do._

He knew. Phichit knew already. Had probably seen the pictures.

Chris felt his stomach heave and was glad he hadn’t eaten anything yet that could have come back up.

The door opened the slightest bit and Rani walked in, without a sound until she looked up at him and gave a pointed meow. He felt the pressure of her paws when she jumped up on the bed and placed her front legs on his thigh. He thought he could see exasperation in her gaze, and it would serve him right, when even his cat had enough of his bullshit. Then she settled in his lap, white against white as she curled up in the soft fluffy material of his robe. And he let go of his phone to bury both hands in her fur instead, the steady movement he petted her with as therapeutic as her purring.

The rest of the day he spent in his gym, blasting the same song over and over again through the speakers while he worked through his emotions on the punching ball and ran the rest off on the treadmill. He ordered food from one of the few restaurants open on New Year’s Day, threw his cigarettes out once more, had a long soak in the bath, and collapsed in bed hoping that his demons wouldn’t find him.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Phichit was sitting on his couch, staring at his phone. He knew the message off by heart, and yet he clung to it like a lifeline. He had read it a thousand times, possibly, dissected it into its parts and thought about every single word’s possible and impossible interpretation.

**_Christophe_ **

_I’m really sorry about this but can we postpone our date? There are things I have to see to today._

For about five minutes this new year had felt really good. Great, actually. He had woken up, with just a minor hangover from the party he’d attended the night before but not enjoyed as much as he would have if his mind hadn’t strayed to Chris all the time. Still lazing around in bed he had done what he did every morning - reach for his phone and check his social media, and the news.

And then he saw the pictures and the bottom fell out of his world.

Phichit saw a lot of pictures every day. He lived and breathed pictures, and over the years he had developed a fairly good coping mechanism to consciously unsee something he came across on the internet that freaked him out while he was still able to read an article that came with it if it interested him. He read the short article that accompanied the pictures with the kind of disgusted fascination that makes people look on at traffic accidents or other people’s misery. Except this wasn’t other people’s misery. It was _his_. And it made him feel physically sick.

A short time later his phone buzzed with the arrival of Chris’ message.

Phichit remained in bed for the longest time after sending his reply. He felt strangely slain. New year’s wishes came in from friends and family. He looked and replied at them all but his heart wasn’t in it. All he could think about was Chris’ message and the fact that there was no reply to his. This was not how it was supposed to be. These were not the kinds of messages they were supposed to send each other today. They were supposed to wish each other a happy new year and pinpoint the time when Phichit came over.

Eventually he dragged himself out of bed. He made some coffee and some toast, and tasted neither. He walked restlessly from one room to the other, checked his social media, tried to binge a series he’d been wanting to watch for months and lost interest halfway through the first episode.

By noon there was only one thing he could think of doing that would take his mind off of things.

Half curled up in the sofa corner, he grabbed his phone and texted his sister: _Up for a game?_

Instead of sending a text back, she called.

Phichit heaved a sigh. He didn’t really feel like talking but that was hardly her fault.

“Happy New Year, Phi.” She sounded teasing when he answered the call. “Isn’t it?”

A hundred alarms went off inside Phichit’s head at the same time. He still opted for asking. Clinging to the last shred of hope that maybe he was simply overreacting, imagining things.

“What are you talking about?”

“Your lover boy’s pictures on the internet, of course.”

Phichit shot up until he sat ramrod straight in the sofa corner.

“Don’t look at them.” He had to take another deep breath for fear of snapping at her.

He closed his eyes, and found his chest was heaving with breaths much too stressful for one body. Too many protective emotions zigzagged through him, and he couldn’t have pinpointed who he wanted to protect more - Chris, his sister, himself.

“Kids my age see so much worse on the internet every day,” she said, and he could hear the smile in her voice, and he wanted to scream.

“Sirikit Chulanont!! I swear to god, if you look at those pictures, I’ll—”

“Okay!” She had to shout to be louder than him. “Okay,” she repeated, more softly this time.

Phichit could hear his own frantic breathing down the phone line. He suddenly became aware of too many things. He was clenching his teeth. He was shaking with uncontrolled breathing. He had yelled at his sister. He wanted to cry.

“I won’t look at them. I promise.”

“Okay.” Phichit inhaled and exhaled audibly. “I’m sorry I shouted.”

“You sound really upset.”

“I am. I feel so… helpless.”

Silence lingered for an instant. The she asked, “Are you angry?”

Phichit thought about this for a long while. “Yes,” he said at last. “I’m super fucking mad.”

“Hang on.” There was a faint commotion on the other end of the line. It sounded like she was getting out of bed and walking out of the room. Suddenly the sounds in the background changed. He could hear the dim noise of a TV and female voices, and he could almost see his sister walking through their house, past their mother and grandmother watching TV. It became quieter again. There was a knock, then very low voices, too low for him to make out any words. And then there was a new voice that made his heart clench almost painfully because until this moment he had not been aware of how much he needed to hear it.

“Phichit?”

Phichit’s breath caught in his throat. “Dad…”

“I saw the pictures.”

Shit, Phichit thought. Fully aware that this was not what he would be able to say to his father, his mind went into overdrive, frantically scrambling for something else to say. Out loud, he said, “Shit.”

For once, his father did not reprimand him about language. Instead he asked, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Phichit took a deep breath. If it hadn’t sounded awfully dramatic he would have said it sounded as if his heart was breaking. “I don’t know what to say,” he finally managed. “I don’t even know what to think… I was supposed to go see him today but he cancelled.”

His father didn’t need to think about an answer. “He probably has a lot of legal shit to handle right now. Get things into motion.”

“I know.” Phichit leaned back into the sofa corner and drew up his knees, bounced his feet on his toes.

“But you’re still upset.”

“I’m scared he’s shutting me out.” There. He’d said it. The thing he had lugged around with him all morning and couldn’t have named until right at this moment, when he let the truth out of the cage of his mind and stared it straight in the eyes as if it was sitting right there at the other end of his sofa.

“Phichit.” He blinked when he heard his father’s voice, and realised he had been somewhere else entirely for a moment. His father’s voice was so calm, so soothing, spreading like a thin film of comfort over the fissures the morning had torn into his heart and whole being. “How would you feel if it was the other way round?”

He had to think about this for a couple of minutes. Sentiments were raging inside him, too many and too fast for him to throw a spanner in the works and grab just one.

“Angry,” he finally said. “Scared. Humiliated. If I had a new boyfriend I would be so ashamed to look them in the… oh.”

“There you have it,” his father said quietly.

Silence lingered for a long moment. Phichit desperately wanted to be in his father’s office now, preferably with a glass of whisky in his hand. It made him think of the weekend in Switzerland. It hurt. His mind wanted to run as far away as possible.

“Phichit.”

“Hm?”

“Your sister is holding up a note she just wrote saying she’s waiting for you in your usual place.”

Phichit closed his eyes. He felt a fond smile cross his lips.

“I think it’s a good idea. You need to take your mind off of things. There’s nothing you can do about it today. And you will drive yourself crazy.”

“I know.”

“Go slay some monsters. Perhaps you’ll slay some other monsters too while you’re at it.”

Those in my head, was what he hadn’t said, Phichit knew.

“Dad?” Phichit thought his voice sounded small when he said the word. “What do you think now? About him?”

“That he has a nice body?”

“Dad, for god’s sake!” Phichit shot up in the sofa corner again, his face flaming red. He could hear his father’s soft chuckle, and it felt so soothing he almost had to laugh as well.

“About the fact that he made a stupid mistake?” his father went on. “He very probably won’t be making it again. We all have made and will make stupid mistakes in our lives. From what I’ve heard and seen he will pick himself up and walk on. Clean up this mess as well as he can. As for you, Phichit… only you can make that decision.”

“There’s no decision to make,” Phichit said.

“Then you’ll be fine going by what I said before - what do _you_ want?”

Phichit swallowed hard. Suddenly the voice across a telephone line wasn’t enough. He wanted to hug his father. Because he couldn’t, he muttered a quiet “Thank you.”

“Anytime.” The affection in his father’s voice was almost as good as a hug. When Phichit closed his eyes. And imagined it very, very hard. “Now go slay the monsters.”

When Phichit entered the virtual tavern a short time later where his sister’s character was already waiting for him, he was determined to do so. Slay all the monsters, online and off.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The next morning Chris pushed open the door to the newsroom and strode past the desks towards where he could already hear Sara talking agitatedly. She had come back from Milan early and called in everyone of her team who was not out of town on holiday. Many of the desks were deserted, most people returning to work only after the holiday on the 6th.

Chris’ “Good Morning” sounded smooth and neutral, his smile was polite, and he tried not to look at Phichit any longer than absolutely necessary and adequate. But he noticed the slight nod Phichit gave him, and all the unspoken words in Phichit’s eyes before he lowered them and looked at his keyboard like it was the most interesting since he’d seen lately. Or ever.

“Sara?”

She had just got off the phone when Chris approached her and pulled him into a quick hug that was accompanied by a dramatic sigh, not unlike a mother who is just getting fed up with her problem child’s shenanigans.

“How are you holding up?” she asked. Her smile was not unkind, and Chris felt himself relax a little.

“I’ve had better times.” He shrugged and perched on the edge of the desk nearest to him. Which happened to be Yura’s and right next to Phichit’s.

“By the way, your father keeps calling me. He says he can’t get through to you.”

“I’ve blocked his number,” Chris replied calmly. “It’s a self-preservation thing.”

Phichit’s head whipped up. For a moment their eyes met, and Chris let it happen, let them have this tiny moment while he watched Sara from the corner of his eye how she was looking at the vibrating phone in her hand again. The smallest hint of a smile flickered into something between them, then Chris’ turned his attention fully on Sara again.

“So what are you going to do?” She leaned back against the desk on Phichit’s other side, arms braced by her sides on the edge of the table.

“Luca’s already suing his ass over about a hundred privacy and personal data violations,” Chris said. “But the pictures are out there, I suppose.”

“What does he want?”

“What he always wanted.” Chris sounded bitter. “Money, is my guess. A little bit of fame, now that I’m not taking him along to flashy society events any longer.”

“Has he contacted you? Named a sum?”

“No.” Their eyes met. Chris felt the determination through him, he almost gritted his teeth, but his voice remained balanced when he spoke. “I’m not paying him money, Sara. I do that once, he’ll always do it again.”

“For fuck’s sake, Chris, just how many pictures of you does he have???”

He didn’t answer. But he noticed from the corner of his eye how Phichit stopped typing for a moment. He could have sworn Phichit was holding his breath too. It was a sinking feeling inside Chris’ stomach, heavy as a rock.

“Is there nothing we can use against him?” Sara asked. He shot her a grateful smile for letting at least that embarrassing side effect drop.

Sara drummed her fingers on the table by her sides, teeth dug into her bottom lip as she thought. At last she looked up.

“I have an idea, though I really need you on board for this, Chris, and it might be uncomfortable. I don’t even know if it will work. What if we go on the offensive instead of trying to hush it up like we did with the Moscow pictures back then?”

Chris looked at her and began to smile. He had been hoping for this, had been hoping that Sara would see it like he did - that they would handle it differently than the last time he screwed up. Do it differently from what his father would do.

“Maybe we can use it to our advantage and do a social media campaign? Either do our own, but I think it will be easier and quicker to team up with one of those that already exist and raise awareness for cyber mobbing or something. You could speak about your experience, admit openly that you’ve done a stupid thing. Talk to young people about internet security and why they should not let themselves be coaxed into stuff like this...”

Chris was watching her, rubbing his chin with two fingers. “It’s a bit of a long shot, I mean I wasn’t exactly _coaxed_ into it.”

Sara pushed herself off of the desk. She looked like she always did when she felt she had a decent idea. “But there are kids out there who do not think they are being coaxed into it either. They do it for love. Then get blackmailed and shamed with pics like that.”

Chris made a low, humming sound at the back of his throat as he thought about her suggestion.

“Doesn’t that make me look like a bit of a dumbass?”

“When has _that_ ever stopped you from doing something?”

“Fair enough.”

“I’m going to call a couple of people and see if they can get me in touch with someone.” Phone already at her ear, Sara rolled her eyes at him while she waited for her call to connect. “Chris, please tell me I’ll live to see the day you’re in a healthy relationship with a normal person!”

Phichit bent lower over his keyboard and typed as carefully and looked as uninvolved as he’d never had in his life. Chris saw it because he averted his eyes from Sara, unable to give her an answer.

He waited until she got off the phone. “I’ll see what we can do and get back to before lunch.”

Chris stood up from where he had sat on Yura’s desk. “Thank you, _cherie_.”

“Yeah, yeah. Buy me dinner at a really fancy place if we can pull this off.” She rolled her eyes for extra drama, but she met him halfway when he came over to give her a hug.

He made his way to the lift. When he heard Sara’s voice, already on her phone again, he dared look up and caught Phichit’s gaze, just before the lift arrived with a ping. There was one brief instant of hope before he lowered his eyes again, reminded of what he was putting on the line with his stupidities of the past.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

He was circling around the punching ball, his shirt and pants drenched with sweat and his shoulder joints already aching from landing punch after punch after punch, when the doorbell rang. He only heard it because there was the small pause before the song pounding through the stereo system started playing yet again. He kept on hitting the punching ball, but now that he had registered it he felt he couldn’t stop hearing the doorbell, so he turned off the music mid-song. In the sudden silence his frantic breathing sounded obscenely loud. He had lost track of time. His heart was hammering almost hatefully in his chest, as if it wanted to ask him what the fuck he was thinking. The doorbell rang again. It sounded angry too, and he hurried to take the boxing gloves off, still untying the wraps from his hands as he made his way down the stairs. His legs felt like rubber.

He was reaching for the door handle, one of his hands still wrapped, when the bell rang again.

Chris yanked the door open. And found himself face to face with a very determined Phichit.

Phichit lowered the hand he had already poised over the bell button again as if he meant for it to reside there permanently if need be.

“Can I come in?” he asked unceremoniously instead of a greeting. It barely even sounded like a question.

Without a word, Chris opened the door wider and stepped aside to let him in. He started removing the wrap from his other hand and placed both the wraps on the nearby couch, hoping Rani wouldn’t mistake them for a new plaything and render them unusable.

There was no question as to whether he could take his coat this time. Phichit unbuttoned it and slid it off his shoulders, kicked off his shoes like a statement. He walked past Chris, not without throwing him a challenging look that dared him to object, before he tossed his coat on the end of the couch. For a moment he remained there, his back turned on Chris as he took a breath so deep it was almost a sigh. Then he squared his shoulders, but his back stayed turned on Chris and he looked out into the garden as if the many fairy lights could give him a hundred small comforts.

“You’ve seen the pictures.” Chris stated the more than obvious.

“Yeah.”

Chris could feel the agitation coming off of him like a shadow stepping away and a Phichit-shaped form coming closer and facing him without inhibition. Challenging. Accusing. Hurting.

He cleared his throat. A chill began to crawl over his back and chest now as his body cooled down and his shirt drenched with cold sweat clung to him, his legs too although the material of the pants was a little warmer. His bare feet eagerly drank up the warmth from the underfloor heating like they were the last lonely sentinel in charge of not letting him freeze completely.

“Luca’s on it. They should be removed by now and I’m pressing charges.”

“Good.” The tendons on his neck stretched in the movement as Phichit nodded.

They both didn’t say what they knew only too well - once online, the images were bound to pop up again somewhere. Possibly. Coming back to bite Chris in the arse. Coming back to haunt them.

“Phichit, I know you’re angry…” Chris started but fell silent when Phichit swung around. He looked like a marvellous, dark vision of passion and anger, made breath and skin and blazing eyes and floppy hair and a voice on too many edges with too many restrained emotions.

“I’m not angry with _you_ , I’m angry with that waste of space! How _dare_ he post pictures of your dick online?? _I_ haven’t even seen your dick!!”

“Yeah, well, there goes that magic moment.”

Phichit glared at him like he wanted to hit him over the head.

“I’m going to get changed,” Chris said quietly.

“I’m making dinner!” Phichit huffed and stalked off towards the kitchen.

Chris had made it up the stairs but not quite to his bedroom when he the music startled him and the song he’d been listening to all this new year long sounded through the house. Phichit must have reached for the remote control in the kitchen, eager to know which song it was he was clinging to. He loved music as much as Chris did, Chris knew that by now.

_It's woven in my soul, I need to let you go ~ Your eyes, they shine so bright, I want to save their light ~ I can't escape this now unless you show me how_

Chris couldn’t have said why it made him feel so naked, the fact that Phichit should be aware of the song. Would he able to trace it back to himself, recognise that it was his eyes Chris had been thinking of for the past two days, with that terrible longing and that terrible fear?

_When you feel my heat look into my eyes, it’s where my demons hide, it's where my demons hide ~ Don't get too close, it’s dark inside, it’s where my demons hide, it’s where my demons hide_

He opened the bedroom door and went in, wondering whether it had really been such a good idea to have loudspeakers hidden everywhere in his house. They seemed to mock him now, every note and every crackle of static reminding him that he had given his demons another way to find him everywhere. The music stopped abruptly, and he closed the bedroom door, alone again with his pounding heart and his weariness and his tired thoughts.

Chris was just grabbing the hem of his drenched T-shirt about to take it off when his bedroom door flew open and Phichit walked in like a man on a mission. He stopped short two steps into the room. Their eyes locked, and Chris let his arms sink to his sides.

Phichit shook his head. “Take your clothes off.”

Chris took a deep, elaborate breath. “Phichit, you really don’t…”

“Shut up, Christophe.” Phichit stepped closer, liquid fire in his eyes, his every motion. “I want to look at what’s _mine_.”

Chris had taken his clothes off in many bedrooms and on many occasions. He had never done it not proudly. Over the last two days however he had felt detached from his body, seen its intimate parts splattered across the internet and tried to connect them back to himself. And here and now, he felt as close to falling to pieces as never before.

But slowly, deliberately, his eyes never leaving Phichit’s, he dragged the soggy T-shirt over his head now. Dropped the sweats and kicked them behind himself. Clad in nothing but a pair of black Italian briefs he stood very straight and still, looking at Phichit.

Phichit nodded at his underwear. “Off,” he said quietly.

Chris dared raise his eyebrows, but Phichit spoke Eyebrow much more fluently and impressively, and he did so now.

“You take those off or _I_ will.”

Chris felt all his defences slide away from him. His thumb hooked under the waistband of his briefs and he tried to cling to a last shred of dignity as he slid them down his thighs bending lightly over until they would just drop down his legs and he was able to step out of them. When he looked up he found Phichit was looking at his face, and somehow this moved him more than any unabashed stares at his body could possibly have. He felt as naked and exposed as never before.

Chris felt the sweat cool almost instantly on his body, leaving him shivering lightly, though he couldn’t have said whether it was from the air in the room cooling down his overheated skin, or whether it was from the way Phichit’s eyes roamed over his body.

“On your bed,” Phichit said and took one step closer.

Chris felt spellbound, moving like Phichit’s every look and every word was a command he could do nothing but follow. He stepped back until the back of his knees hit the bed and he sank down, but it was not enough, and not what Phichit wanted. So he moved further back, crawling and sliding up the smooth satin of the bedspread. His eyes were on Phichit, mesmerised, his body moving like Phichit moved. He moved stylishly, Chris thought, vibrant and pliable like the taut curls of a spring. Everything about Phichit was stylish. The way he put one knee on the bed and rested his weight on one arm before the other knee followed. The way he positioned himself so close beside him and looked at every part of Chris except his face. The way he drank his fill of him with his eyes only so that Chris already felt weak and helpless before even the first touch.

Phichit’s touch was not a whisper. It was not a caress. It had a voice of its own, and just like when he spoke, it wrote his name in a way that did not hurt. Head bent low so that his black hair fell into his face, Phichit let his eyes and his fingers roam so slowly over his body that Chris thought he could almost feel it, a veil of sheerest silk drawn all the way from his toes up over his shins and knees and thighs. His goddamn long legs, Phichit had called them the day he explained his feelings, and the memory made Chris chuckle just the slightest bit. The barely noticeable sound made Phichit look up, and the memory became a shared one, as the palest strip of pink appeared on Phichit’s face when he became aware of how much time he had spent skimming his fingers over Chris’ legs.

As if it made him feel that he needed to prove he meant business, Phichit rose up on his knees and swung one of them across Chris’ hips, straddling him just a moment later with both hands brushing Chris’ stomach. The breath Chris drew became a hiss, because he felt it like the liquid fire he had seen in Phichit’s eyes earlier. And he had felt these thighs around him before but never like this, never when he was undressed and the rough denim was rubbing up against his bare skin, letting warmth seep through that could only give Chris an idea of how burning hot Phichit’s skin must be under his clothes if he could feel it like this.

Phichit’s hair fell forward once more when he leaned over, his hands staking possessive claims all over Chris’ chest. Chris swallowed hard, fought to keep his own hands down on the bed, although he seemed to be allowed the small movement of clutching the bedspread with his fingers. His breath hitched in his throat when Phichit leaned over him and all of a sudden there was the soft brush of hair against his jawline and the heat of a mouth latching onto his neck. There was a murmur of something he couldn’t understand, although it sounded and felt _so_ beautiful, and the warm gush of a sigh against the sensitive skin of his throat, and then kisses.

So many burning kisses. Phichit moved above him like a river that was carrying him away, showing unexpected flexibility as he ravished his mouth while at the same time he had his hands reaching back by his sides as much as he possibly could to keep Chris’ arms pinned down by his sides. And he only pressed down harder when Chris balled one hand into a fist and pounded the bed once because this was doing things to him and it was maddening to just feel but not to touch. He could feel Phichit’s teasing chuckle more than he heard it, hot breath against his lips between two kisses. And he had never known how sensitive his sides could be before there was Phichit, or how healing a kiss could taste. 

“Fucking hell…” Phichit’s chest was heaving with the sheer intensity of his breaths as he tore himself away and leaned back. “I can’t… if I don’t stop now this will be going some place that this is definitely not the right time and place for.”

He swung his knees over Chris’ hips and rolled himself off the bed in one catlike movement.

“How about I get dinner ready?” he asked, audibly and visibly fighting for composure as he looked very deliberately at Chris’ face, his hands on his hips.

Chris was still completely stunned. All he could do was return Phichit’s intense gaze. And hope his voice wouldn’t refuse his command now. Unlike other parts of his body.

“Dinner would be lovely,” he managed to say with his head slightly raised from the pillow. It sounded almost neutral. Definitely enough to add some more words. “I’ll take a shower and meet you downstairs.”

Phichit nodded and turned to leave. In the bedroom door he stopped and looked back again.

“Make that a _cold_ shower,” he said after one pointed look across the whole outstretched form of Chris’ body on the bed. “For both our sakes.”

He was gone before Chris could see whether the hint of amusement he thought he had seen in Phichit’s eyes had stretched to the corners of his mouth. Feeling completely and utterly defeated, Chris let his head drop back into the pillows and allowed his first smile of the new year to steal onto his face.

After dinner they found themselves entangled on the couch in their usual spot. The TV was showing some talent show but neither of them were watching, and they had turned down the volume so low it was almost muted.

“If you want to talk to Yuuri…” Chris ceased caressing the small of Phichit’s back when Phichit raised his head to look at him. “I think you should.”

“I’m fine.”

“Phichit, you’re not fine. I can see this is tearing you to pieces.” Chris sighed. “And I know I said you call the shots, and I swear I don’t want to convince you otherwise, but this… this changes things. This is much bigger than just hiding that you’re dating someone Yuuri despises.”

“I will tell him, I promise. I was going to, but then this happened and everything became so fragile again. I want to protect it.”

“And _I_ want to protect _you_.” Chris sounded firm. “If the stupidity of my past actions is hurting you then perhaps we should reconsider—”

“Stop right there!” Phichit held up one hand. “There’s nothing to reconsider. I don’t see anything. _Still_ don’t see anything. I don’t want to end things, I want to get through this with you.”

They stared at each other, for minutes, barely blinking, each of them firm, determined in his own right. Finally, Phichit’s expression softened.

“Have I made myself clear enough?” he asked and brought up one hand to cup Chris’ face, his thumb running along his bottom lip.

“Perfectly clear.” Chris’ voice was quiet, and laced with emotion. He pulled Phichit into a hug that he hoped said more than any words could have conveyed now. It felt like home, Chris thought, who never hugged anyone but Victor and Sara and Mickey, at least not like this. And Phichit’s arms around him felt like home as well, not just hugging him back, but catching him, hiding him, holding him safe.

He caught the smug grin of satisfaction on Phichit’s face when they eventually let go, only for Phichit to stretch himself out half on top of him, half beside him, one leg over Chris’s, one arm slung over his chest and his head resting where Chris was sure he could feel his heart beating. He wrapped his arms around him, buried his face in his hair. Breathed him in and allowed himself to feel secure in this moment.

“What?” Chris asked when Phichit suddenly started to giggle quietly.

“Nothing.” Phichit wriggled around a little until he was even more comfortable in his arms. “And here I thought Victor was the notorious cuddler.”

“Pfft.” Chris huffed. “Victor learned all his moves from me!”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Phichit couldn’t tell Yuuri. On the 6th of January, they were making dinner together because they were expecting Leo and Guang Hong back, and there was an engagement to celebrate as well as Guang Hong’s birthday, which they reckoned they would be ringing in at midnight because they would be sitting together and talk for hours. Phichit was piling up thin potato slices in a baking tray for a gratin, working quietly side by side with Yuuri. They had talked about Chris’ pictures earlier when Victor have given them an update on the remedies Luca was aiming at, and Yuuri’s face had told Phichit everything he needed to know.

It was Yuuri’s disappointed face, the one he always had when they talked about the high hopes they had come to work for this company with, to work for a young, modern CEO like Chris, and then finding out that he was a total letdown as a human being.

“Peach?”

Yuuri’s voice pulled him from his thought spiral.

“Something the matter?”

Phichit shook his head. He brushed a strand of hair that was getting too long from his eye and was still trying to find an answer when the doorbell rang. Phichit almost felt like laughing, that stupid cliché of ‘saved by the bell’ darting through his mind. Victor was already opening the door, and then absolute mayhem ensued as Shi shot towards Guang Hong like a fluffy white bullet and everyone huddled around in Yuuri’s small hallway because everyone wanted to hug and congratulate the both of them and look at the rings.

The larger part of dinner was spent squeezing even the last detail about their holiday out of them, toasting with champagne Victor had brought when they finally got to the part where Leo had gone down on one knee and popped the question.

“And how has it been going here?” Leo asked eventually when they were halfway through dessert and it was drawing closer to midnight. “We… heard about the pictures.”

“It’s okay, Leo, you can say that you saw them.” Victor smiled at him.

“We didn’t mean to, but when we called up the news site they were already right there.” Guang Hong looked slightly embarrassed. “It’s not something we eagerly went through, I mean… he’s your boss. And _your_ best friend.” He looked at Yuuri and Phichit, then at Victor, and finally down at his chocolate mousse with great interest.

“Well, I’ve probably seen Chris’ cock more often than I would have wanted to in my life, but you’re right.” Victor smirked a little. “It’s not exactly ideal for the CEO of a large company. Employees’ kids are on the internet, too.”

“How is he feeling?” Guang Hong wanted to know.

“Shitty.” Victor sighed.

Yuuri muttered something under his breath that earned him an affectionate rub over the small of his back with one hand from Victor.

“And how are _you_?” Leo asked Victor.

“Honestly? If I got my hands on that waste of space I would rip him a new one. Chris is no saint, god knows he’s done a lot of dumb things in his life. But for some reason he really liked that wanker. He’s always been like that.”

Victor put down his fork and reached for his champagne glass instead. He drank a sip, then leaned back in his chair with a sad little smile.

“Hanging his heart on people who charmed his ego, liked him for his name and his money. Can you imagine how frustrating it is to see your best friend throw himself away to undeserving scum again and again? I just want him to be happy. I want him to find someone who sees beneath all that polished exterior and loves him for the whacky, charming, softie that he is. Sorry.”

He shook his head. Smiled almost timidly. “I was getting carried away there.”

Phichit had been eating his chocolate mousse with great care while Victor spoke. He felt Victor’s words like someone was cutting his heart into neat small portions at the same time. He was pretty sure he had understood what Yuuri had muttered. It had sounded suspiciously like a stubborn “Serves him right”, and it made a door close inside Phichit that he had kept a cautious foot in since New Year’s Eve. It fell shut now, closing on Phichit’s one resolution.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

A couple of days later, Yuuri was updating Chris’ appointments when a chat window of the company messenger popped up.

**Phichit Chulanont**

**_online_ **

_oi katsudon!_

_it’s yuri_

_you’d better come down here_

_p’s falling apart_

Yuuri frowned. Yura was still on his intern contract, he didn’t have access to his own company account and the messenger yet. If he was typing in Phichit’s that could only mean one thing – Phichit had left his desk without activating the lock screen. And that was so not Phichit that Yuuri felt a small bout of nerves coil in his gut like a broken power cable shooting sparks. He took a deep, resolved breath and rose from his seat. Chris was still on the phone, but even if he hadn’t been, nothing and no one would have stopped Yuuri now.

“Georgi, can you take my phone for a bit?” he asked as he leaned on the reception desk. Victor’s door was closed, so at least he would be able to slip away unnoticed. “There’s something important I’ve got to do.”

“Sure.” Georgi nodded, and Yuuri gave him a grateful smile.

Georgi cocked his head towards the door in his back. “What do I tell him?”

“I’ll explain everything to him when I get back.”

Yuuri headed for the lift and pressed the button. A few minutes later he got out on Phichit’s floor and walked the familiar way past the IT crowd’s desks towards Phichit’s.

“Yuuri?!” Phichit looked up from his screen in surprise when he saw him. Beside him, Yura gave Yuuri a barely noticeable nod and bent over his own screen again.

Yuuri pulled up a chair from an abandoned desk close by and sat down right beside Phichit.

For a very long moment they sat quietly side by side. Then Yuuri breathed a sigh.

“So, are you going to talk to me now?”

“About what?” It was the lamest fake smile Yuuri had ever seen Phichit try to master.

“About Chris and you dating him.”

Phichit stared at Yuuri and didn’t say anything.

And a speechless Phichit Chulanont was the answer to everything.

Yuuri couldn’t help a small smile. “Remember when I lost that bet to you and you picked my clothes? I told you back then that my revenge would be terrible. Looks like I was right. You’re stuck with Chris of all people.”

“How is this your revenge?” Phichit knitted his eyebrows together.

“Oh, you know what I mean!” Yuuri rolled his eyes. “Something terrible was going to happen to you - and by that I mean being stuck with Chris.”

For a long while they stared at each other. Then Phichit faltered.

“Yuuri, I am so sorry!” His voice sounded high-pitched, and just a little hysterical. He didn’t like it.

Yuuri huffed out a sigh that would have made the most patient person aggressive. He looked at Phichit with his head cocked, waiting for more words to come.

“What gave me away?” Phichit asked finally. Yuuri almost laughed.

“Oh Peach, where do I start?” He smiled good-humouredly. “In retrospect so many things suddenly make so much more sense. Things I puzzled over when they happened but couldn’t make sense of and then I was distracted and had my own mess to sort out, but I think they were always at the back of my mind, and when you started acting weird after the Christmas party I suddenly had to think about them again.”

“Like what?” Phichit knitted his eyebrows together most dramatically.

“Your very passionate reaction to my stupid coming on to Chris was a dead give-away, for one. Or when we had that Korean barbecue and Mila asked me if Victor was trying to set me up with Chris, you were among the ones who gave the strongest reaction.”

Phichit blinked, as if trying to remember. “That was ages ago!” he said at last.

“How long have you been crushing on him?” Yuuri asked. It sounded like a challenge.

Phichit blushed.

“You never replied to my messages from when I was stuck in the car with Chris after first aid class and he asked me out for a drink,” Yuuri went on. “Were you jealous?”

Phichit opened his mouth. Closed it again. “I might have been,” he finally muttered.

Yuuri leaned in close, forcing Phichit to look at him, coaxing him out of hiding.

“And Chris with that little girl in Turkey… first when she crashed his interview. You looked at the screen just as smitten as all the girls in the room at that moment. And when we watched that video Luca made. I asked you something about the little girl afterwards, Peach, and you commented on Chris. Like you hadn’t seen anyone else in that video.”

Phichit was just staring at Yuuri now and feeling like a complete and utter idiot. He could actually hear his father’s laughter in his head.

“Last but not least…”

“Oh god, what else?” Phichit buried his face in his hands. He was glowing. And he should be, he thought. He felt so ashamed he was close to hysterics. All this time he had been scared of telling Yuuri, and now he realised he had been worried about all the wrong things.

“Chris’ press conference. When he thanked the person who was kind to him in his darkest hour. Your _face_ , Peach! I wish I’d taken your picture there and then. You were crying. You were looking at him like he was everything you’ve ever wanted and more. He didn’t say your name but I knew then it was you.”

“I was _not_ crying!” Phichit looked up from his hands, indignant.

“You amaze him.”

Phichit blushed harder.

Yuuri grinned. “Every day.”

“Yuuri…”

“You could be the light of his life, Peach.”

They looked at each other, smiles and tears fighting for the right of first emotion to break through.

“ _I_ took a picture.”

The casual remark from the side made them both turn towards Yura like one.

“You… what?” Phichit nearly squeaked.

Yura shrugged.

“There’s a picture???” Phichit nearly jumped off his seat. Yuuri held him back with one hand on his arm.

“You’ve trained me to always have my phone ready to catch those embarrassing emotions from Victor and Katsudon, and then you made a similar face… I thought it might be important.”

“Why didn’t I hear of this picture until now?” Phichit turned to Yuuri like he knew the answer. Yuuri shrugged.

“I’ll send it to you. Jesus.” Yura shook his head and turned back to his screen.

“Thank you, Tiger!” Suddenly Phichit felt shaky. His knees bounced lightly up and down, and he turned to Yuuri, lips drawn into a thin, nervous line.

“So, how are you holding up in all this?” Yuuri asked. He nodded at the computer screen, where their company’s social media pages were called up and Phichit had clearly gone through the comment section.

Phichit started shaking a little with hysterical laughter. “How about not at all?”

Yuuri’s eyebrows climbed to a dangerous height.

“The things some people write, Yuuri. There are comments like: ‘Serves him right, what he does is an abomination, I hope he dies of Aids.’ Or that he’s an embarrassment to the good name of his family. Or, ‘I bet he’d look even better with MY dick in his mouth!’ Who writes that? Why would anyone write something so vile? They don’t even know him!”

Yuuri placed one arm around Phichit and pulled him close towards himself, holding on while Phichit rested his forehead against Yuuri’s shoulder.

“ _I_ can do the shitty comments.”

Phichit looked up and they both turned to Yura again. He shrugged. It was really becoming his trademark motion, Phichit thought.

“Shit talk and hate speech is _my_ terrain. So why don’t you let me filter the comments and pass the good ones on to you?”

Phichit stared at Yura, dumbfounded and unmoving. Until Yuuri nudged him in the side.

“That would be absolutely fantastic, Yura, thank you!” Yuuri said.

Yura muttered something as he faced his screen again, but he looked very pleased.

“And as for you…” Yuuri turned towards Phichit. “I’ll text Leo and Guang Hong that we’re all having dinner at my place tonight, okay? Just the four of us. You have to tell them. So we can be there for you. Okay?”

It was a rhetorical question, and they both knew it. Yuuri had taken charge.

“Okay.” Phichit sounded relieved as he watched Yuuri get up. “Yuuri!”

Yuuri straightened from putting the chair back where he’d taken it from and found that Phichit was standing by his chair now, hovering almost awkwardly on his toes as he waited for Yuuri to turn around again. A big smile spread across Yuuri’s face when he stepped into a hug and wound his arms tight around Phichit.

“Stupid,” he said quietly where he guessed Phichit’s ear to be. “To think I wouldn’t notice!” He squeezed him tighter.

“I’m sorry!” Phichit squeezed back. “I’m sorry for being such an idiot!”

“But you’re _my_ idiot.” Yuuri stepped back from their embrace, face flushed, hair in disarray, his glasses wonky on his nose. He ran one hand across Phichit’s cheek for in brief, affectionate gesture. “See you later, Peach.”

Phichit waited until the lift doors closed behind Yuuri, watched him shake his head at him again with a smile on his face. Then he whipped out his phone and sent off the same message to two different numbers:

_Yuuri knows._

Moments laters his phone hummed twice within a short span of time as both Chris and his father sent him the exact same reply:

_Good!_

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

That evening in Yuuri’s kitchen, Phichit found himself facing his three best friends around the table. He was nervous, kneading his hands together in his lap. At long last he looked up.

“This is not official, but you’re my best friends, and I want you to know…”

Yuuri gave him a reassuring smile.

Phichit took a deep breath.

“I’m seeing Chris.”

For a long moment there was silence around the kitchen table. Looks passed around between the four of them. Finally, Leo sighed and reached into the back pocket of his jeans and brought out his wallet. He took out a 20 Euro note and handed it to Guang Hong without a word, just a frustrated expression on his face. Guang Hong’s smile when he pocketed the money was beatific.

Phichit’s jaw dropped. Yuuri, too, seemed a little taken aback, but then he started laughing quietly, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe that he, too, had not seen right through them.

“You, too!” Phichit exclaimed when he found his voice. “You knew!”

“We suspected.” Leo shook his head. “You had some really adventurous excuses for some things.”

Guang Hong started to laugh. “Peach, we bought those black jeans together! I’ve got the same ones. Remember the other day when you came home and they were covered in cat hair and you blamed it on Shi? D’you think I wouldn’t be able to tell cat hair apart from my own dog’s hair on those jeans?”

“Why didn’t you say something?” Phichit stared from one to the other.

“You’re the loud one in our group, Peach,” Yuuri said. “The one who speaks his mind and confronts us right out, whether we are ready to talk about things or not. But you know us. We’re different. Guang Hong and I, we watch and wait before we speak. And we can wait a damn long time. And if Leo was any more laid back, he’d fall over. But we know you, Peach. We know each other.”

“We’ve been keeping an eye on you,” Leo added. “We wanted to give you space to tell us in your own time, when you’re ready. Because we knew that if we were right and you were really into him, you would be terrified of us finding out and asking you what the hell you’re thinking.”

“Which I must admit I find a little insulting because you should give us more credit.” Guang Hong winked at Phichit across the table.

“We wanted to give you the time you need but we were ready to step in the moment we noticed this is not doing you good. You were happy. Until now.” Yuuri looked at him so fiercely that Phichit lowered his eyes.

“Let’s call a pizza,” Leo suggested. “This is going to take a while.”

Yuuri nodded and rose from his seat to get his phone.

“So…” Guang Hong leaned over the table towards Phichit. “Have to shared Spotify playlists yet?”

“What? No!” Phichit exclaimed, shocked. “That’s totally intimate! Music is a big step."

“For some more than others,” Yuuri commented drily before he called up the number of their favourite pizza service and ordered pizza and beer that would suffice to feed an army.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

At the same time in another part of the city, Victor was looking at Chris over the brim of his gin&tonic glass.

“I hate to bring it up like a health councillor but…” He closed his lips around the straw and drank. “He’s probably been screwing around, so, can you be sure you didn’t catch anything from him?”

Chris nodded. “It’s okay. I’ve been going to get tested regularly, maybe I didn’t trust him, subconsciously. I’m clear, Victor, it’s all good.”

Victor nodded and placed his free arm around Chris’ shoulder. They sat by the bar, their favourite drinks in front of them and companionable silence between them. Victor was watching Chris drumming his fingers on the bar top, and he was guessing it was the nicotine craving, but Chris made no notions of getting up to go outside for a smoke.

It was when they were on their second drink, their backs turned to the bar now as they were watching the dancers on the elevated floor, that Chris spoke again.

“Do you remember that night here in the club?”

Victor snorted quietly instead of an answer. How could he ever forget?

“When they danced together... not that Bollywood performance, the song before, that was like a mash-up of Bollywood with hip hop, the one from that movie.”

Victor hummed approval, low in his throat.

“They looked so happy, dancing all kinds of different things and goofing around. I want to go back and have that moment again, Victor. I want you and me sitting at the bar like we did that night, but this time I want us watching them and knowing that they’re _ours_.”

Victor turned his head to look at him. He didn’t say anything, but they understood each other without words.

“You’re not surprised it’s Phichit,” Chris stated calmly.

Victor shook his head, smiling.

Chris exhaled slowly. “You truly know me like nobody else does.”

“That for one, and Yuuri knows Phichit. He figured it out a while ago. Plus the minor detail that his famous sweet Thai chili sauce was standing in your kitchen.”

Their glasses came together in a toast.

“I wanted Phichit to tell Yuuri,” Chris said after he had lowered his glass again. “That crap Sébastien pulled was killing him. I felt he needed someone to lean on. Someone who was not me. Someone wholesome.”

“Chris!” Victor reprimanded sharply.

They drank in silence, let the music weave around them and lull them into mellow comfort.

“I’m glad they’re talking tonight,” Chris said and downed the rest of his champagne in one go.

“I’m glad _we_ are.” Victor’s lips closed around the straw again.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Phichit and Yuuri were sitting in their accustomed spots on opposite ends of Yuuri’s sofa. Their legs were touching in the middle like always, their hands wound around cold, perspiring bottles of beer. Leo and Guang Hong had gone home just moments ago, leaving Yuuri and Phichit snickering as they heard Guang Hong sing all the way down the hallway to his apartment and Shi joining in with enthusiastic howling.

Phichit looked across the small distance between them.

“I’m so sorry. I was scared, Yuuri. I was scared shitless of you being disappointed in me.”

“I hate that you felt like that.” Yuuri sighed. “And after the hell you gave me after just a few _days_ , because I didn’t tell you I kissed Victor… what were you thinking?”

“I’m beginning to think I wasn’t thinking at all.”

“I drink to that!” Yuuri raised his beer bottle and took a large gulp.

“You were so angry with him, Yuuri. And I totally understand, because how he behaved and what he said at the Christmas party… that’s unforgivable, to you and Victor.”

Yuuri didn’t say anything in reply to that, so they sat in silence, taking thoughtful sips from their bottles, and Phichit watched a small rivulet of condensation trickle down the label and felt it wet his fingers.

Yuuri was the first to speak again.

“Do you feel glad? Now that we know?”

"You mean now that I know that you knew all the time?”

A small smile passed between them.

“Most of all I just feel tired. All this time I’ve carried this weight around with me and it grew heavier and heavier, and now it’s gone and I just… can’t believe it. I thought I would be so euphoric. But I think it hasn’t sunk in yet. It feels surreal. And good. So good, Yuuri, I don’t know where to start.”

"Let’s start like this: are you happy?”

Phichit sighed. “How am I supposed to answer this question right at the moment? You said it served him right.”

“I was trying to coax a reaction out of you.” Yuuri looked a little sheepish. “I thought it might make you speak up at last.”

Phichit’s eyebrows shot up. He tried to fight down a bubble of laughter but it would not be denied, and when their eyes met, Yuuri’s mouth was twitching too. It felt good to laugh. Laughing with Yuuri felt like coming home.

“Let’s try again,” Yuuri said at last. “If this shit wasn’t going on? Would you be happy?”

“If this wasn’t going on - yes.” Phichit gripped the bottle tighter and chugged down two large gulps. He needed some courage.

“Yuuri, there’s something else I need to tell you.” He played the now empty beer bottle between his hands.

"Oh god, what else could there possibly be?” Yuuri placed one hand on his heart, pretending to be shocked.

"While you were in Milan…” Phichit fell silent, suddenly at a loss for words.

“Yes? Mickey told us he gave Chris a weekend somewhere in the Swiss Alps… some fancy spa hotel.”

“I went with him.”

“I KNEW IT!”

Yuuri’s sudden outburst almost made Phichit jump. He was glad his beer was already finished.

“You looked so happy when I came home, Peach.” Yuuri glared at him. “What happened there?”

“Are you asking me about the sex?”

Yuuri flushed instantly. “Peach, I would never! I’m not you!”

“That’s not what I mean. I mean there’s nothing to tell.” Phichit lowered his eyes, watched his fingers pluck on a loose thread on his jeans.

“Huh? That doesn’t sound like you.”

“No.” He looked back up at Yuuri. Who was staring at him like he had seen a ghost.

“But you want to?” Yuuri asked, blinking behind his glasses.

“Hell yes, I want to!” Phichit took a deep breath and exhaled almost dramatically. “But his fucking ex just plastered his nudes all over the internet.”

“So you saw his cock before you saw it?”

“Yeah.”

“Mhm.” Yuuri nursed his beer bottle. Then a thought struck him. “But what about that spa hotel? Didn’t you go in the sauna or something”

“He did. You know I hate saunas. I grew up in one.”

Again, Yuuri hummed quietly to himself. The comfort of this small Yuuri sound felt overwhelming to Phichit at this very moment. When Yuuri looked up again, he seemed determined.

“Peach. I want you to be happy. But I cannot just brush off what he said that night. You didn’t hear him. When I think about it I still want to kick him. That’s how deeply I feel this. It was toxic, Phichit.”

Phichit nodded very slowly. “Are you trying to tell me you’re worried for me?”

“I’m telling you I’m watching you. The moment he makes you unhappy, he’s a dead man.”

Phichit had to look at Yuuri for a very long moment before the twitching around his mouth and the sparkle in his eyes showed. And even then, Phichit knew that there was still a long way to go until he would be able to bring his best friend and his boyfriend together for more than polite acknowledgment of the other’s presence for his and Victor’s sake. Phichit repressed a sigh.

“I’m getting another beer.” He disentangled his legs from Yuuri’s and stood up.

“Bring me one as well?” Yuuri asked and handed him his empty bottle.

“Sure.” Phichit gave Yuuri’s hair an affectionate tousle before he took the bottle from him. It was a small gesture, but the way Yuuri laughed softly and did not dodge his touch felt like coming home after a long, fearsome journey.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The smell of school auditorium was one that Chris hadn’t wanted to come across again in his life, ever. This one was at least far away enough from the cafeteria for food smells to seep in. But there was a persistent trace of dust that clung to the curtains that framed the windows and the stage, and to the upholstery of the chairs. The white-washed walls seemed to have been painted recently, for there was a weak remnant of the smell of paint in the air. The wooden stage and the stairs leading up to it were made of a light chestnut wood that gave Chris a massive flashback to his own schooldays and speeches he climbed up similar steps for. Tiny specks of dust were dancing in the beams of winter sun that cast their light inside. There was a row of windows on each long side of the room that let in the only sunlight the curtains had probably ever seen. The window panes looked like they could do with a cleaning, and they probably were not opened a lot, judging by the subdued smell of countless sweaty dance performances and more or less attentive young bodies looking at the stage that lingered in the whole room.

“Lovely,” Sara said, while her nose was scrunched up like Chris had last seen her when they were fourteen and that expression was a constant feature on her face, showing clearly what she thought of three teenaged boys around her and the sounds and smells they gave off in her presence.

Their steps resounded loudly on the wooden floor as they made their way through the aisle that was left in the middle between rows of chairs set up in accurate rows.

“Hello Sara!” A young woman about their age was coming down the wooden stairs. They creaked faintly under her steps. She was the guidance counsellor of a local school Sara had been put in touch with. After several cases of bullying and cyber mobbing the school had started a project to raise awareness. Getting Chris to speak to the pupils as some kind of local celebrity had brought the two of them together.

“Eva, hi.” Sara shook her hand, then looked at her closely. “I’m sorry, but. You’re so young.”

“Yes.” Laughing, Eva shook auburn curls from her face. “It’s the first time the principal decided to give this position to a younger member of staff. The kids like to talk to someone my age more, I guess, but some of the senior teachers and parents were not so happy and tried to get someone else in the spot.”

She winked. “Tell you what, the parents are much worse than the kids.”

Chris had remained politely silent, but now he had to laugh.

“Mr Giacometti.” She turned towards him, one hand stretched out.

“Please, call me Chris.” He smiled as he shook her hand.

“I’m very sorry about what’s happened to you. But I must admit, I’m also very glad you have agreed to come and speak to our pupils. We have been having so many problems with these kind of things, especially compromising pictures. Teenagers are just… wild nowadays.” She said it as if her own teens were fifty years back, not ten, from they way she looked.

“And I thought _we_ were terrible,” Chris grinned.

“Well, you were,” Sara said as she went up the stairs to check the microphone at the speaking desk at the front of the stage.

Soon the rows of seats were filled with teenagers from the ages of fourteen up to eighteen. Eva gave a short introduction, and then Chris stepped up to the microphone.

“Hello. My name is Christophe Giacometti. I suppose many of you won’t know my face, though I dare say other parts of my anatomy are much more familiar.”

Ripples of laughter went through the room. The expressions on the teenagers’ faces ranged from bored to interested to curious to a couple of vaguely smitten girls and boys. Chris told his story, like he had agreed upon with Sara and Eva beforehand. Afterwards, the kids got to ask him questions. There was the usual embarrassed shuffling of feet and staring at the ground before someone dared to speak.

It was a girl in the front row, who had followed every word Chris had said with great interest. He had noticed.

“Are you seeing someone at the moment? How are they coping with the fact that your nudes are online and everyone can see you naked?”

Chris smiled, a little cautiously. “I am seeing someone new, and it’s very hard for them. They didn’t say it to my face but I can see it. I can see that it’s unbearable for them. It would be for anyone who wants to be… this close. On an intimate physical level. And someone else already violated that boundary for them.”

He became serious. “I’m very lucky. The person I’m with… they somehow find the strength in them to give me strength in all this. To say ‘I want to go through this with you.’”

“Wow,” some other girl said from the opposite row of seats. “I would have broken up with you!”

“I would have broken up with myself, too.” Chris looked at her.

“They must really like you.”

For a moment Chris felt like all the air was punched from his lungs. “I consider myself very lucky that they do.”

He cleared his throat, suddenly feeling very emotional. “But they have a fantastic group of supportive friends around them, too. Which is what I would recommend you all to build around yourself, if you can. I have a few very good friends I can rely on as well, even though I’m giving them a very hard time. One of them is right here with me. Because she happens to be my PR lady extraordinaire.” He turned to the side of the stage where Sara was standing.

“How did _you_ feel?” someone called up to her. “Seeing one of your closest male friends’ balls all over the internet?”

“It’s certainly a sight I could have well done without.” Sara winked.

“You forgot to mention that you were angry with me, too,” Chris added.

“Well… yes.” Sara blushed a little and stepped out towards the microphone when Chris reached for her with one arm. “Yes, I was angry with you. For a moment I seriously wondered how you could be so stupid. But then I realised I can never know what I would do in your stead. Unless having been there yourself it’s always easy to say: That would never happen to me.”

“I have a question!” A boy rose from his seat in one of the rows further back. “I like this girl.”

Some of the boys around him started wolf-whistling and “Ooooh!”ing.

“Shut up, you wanker!” He nudged the boy next to him against the shoulder before he turned towards Chris again.

“So there’s this girl. And I really like her. But that arsehole guy from my class talked her into sending him nudes and she did, and he put them up in the locker room, and then someone sneaked in and stole some of the pictures and she was one of the people shamed all over the entire school.”

“I’m very sorry to hear that,” Chris said, his face serious and compassionate.

“It was our most severe case,” Eva cut in, turning towards Sara and Chris. “One of the most popular boys persuaded several girls he knew were crushing on him to send him erotic pictures of themselves. Some were just in their underwear, many topless. Some went all the way. He printed them and put them up in the boys’ locker room. It went on for weeks until some of the pictures were spread around the whole school and the teachers became fully aware of the whole mess.”

“Luckily I got to blast him one before he was kicked out!” The boy who had stood up to ask Chris threw in, not without pride.

“He was expelled, and the victims have been receiving counselling. Some of them haven’t been back to school since,” Eva clarified.

“Some of us tried to tell you but many of the teachers were afraid of him because his parents are great benefactors!” a faceless, enraged voice called from somewhere at the back.

“Why didn’t anyone else say something?” Chris looked around the faces in front of him, singling out the boys.

There was no answer, just a lot of averted eyes and heads lowered with strained disinterest.

“I tell you why,” Chris said. “You thought it was cool. You thought it was funny. I was a teenaged boy too once. When I was your age smartphones weren’t a thing. Our nudes were magazines that someone stole from their father or, the really brave ones, shoplifted from the main station kiosk and smuggled to school to show around in the locker room. Every generation of teenaged boys is the same when it comes to talking over a pretty woman’s body.”

“But you’re gay!” someone called from the furthest seats in the front row.

Chris chuckled. “First of all, you don’t have to be straight to acknowledge a beautiful pair of boobs.”

“Oh my god, Chris!” came Sara’s voice from the side she had gone back to, exasperated.

But the rows of seats he was facing resounded with laughter, and not just that of the boys.

“And second, there were gay magazines, too, you know. You just needed to know who to ask.”

He sobered up. “But that was different. Those were not actual photos we took of someone we knew personally. Of our classmates. That’s where the line is drawn. Has to be drawn. It’s bad enough to coax a classmate into sending you nudes.”

“What if they do so out of their own free will?” a lanky blond guy from the second row threw in.

“Then they still sent them to you, personally, and not to be plastered all over a locker room or, even worse, social media. There’s nothing cool about that. There’s nothing funny. It’s a severe violation of privacy and breach of trust. It’s disgusting. If you share those pictures, you are disgusting. You are also at the age of criminal responsibility, in case you weren’t aware of that or think nothing can happen to you as long as you’re under 18. And if you’re on the other side and it’s your pictures that are shared around…”

He looked around the rows of faces.

“Don’t stay silent. Seek help. Speak up.”

“Easy for you to say, Mr Corporate Leader with a bunch of good lawyers backing you up.” A girl’s voice.

Chris looked in the direction the snide comment had come from. “You have privacy rights like everyone else. You have the rights to your own picture. And you may not have lawyers, but you, too, have people who will stand up for you. Speak to your friends, your parents, your teachers. Raise hell! And stand up for each other!”

“What can I do about this girl?” The boy was still standing. “I really like her. And I want to be there for her but I don’t know how to approach her.”

Chris focussed on him. “She’s probably feeling very ashamed. I know I am. And this is something my lawyers can’t help with.” He looked pointedly at the girl who had thrown that remark at him.

“This is something I have to struggle with, every day I see my face in the mirror. Every day I step in the shower or walk by my dressing mirror.”

“Don’t you have a shitload of confidence?” another voice asked.

“Language, Max!” Eva rolled her eyes.

Chris chuckled. “Confidence doesn’t help this feeling of being completely fucked over.”

He turned towards Eva. “Sorry.”

“What helped me a lot was to know that my… that the person I am with is not angry with me, but with the person who violated my privacy and my trust.” He looked at the boy standing up. “Perhaps you can convey this to the girl. That it’s not her that you have negative feelings about. She, and everyone else whose pictures were spread around, is bound to feel shitty enough. Don’t add to it by keeping a distance. Reach out and be a friend. You never know when you will be the one in need of a friend.”

It took a while before they were able to get away after they finished. Most of the kids had filed out after a round of polite applause, glad to be done and able to get away. But there was a considerable number of boys and girls flocking around Chris, still wanting to ask a question, or just exchange some words, or say thank you. It was drawing late afternoon by the time Chris found himself in the back of a taxi back to the office with Sara.

Chris had looked out the car window for a moment but then he turned his head towards her.

“Sara.”

She looked up and lowered the phone into her lap.

“It’s Phichit. The person I’m seeing. It’s Phichit.”

She stared at him for so long that Chris began to fear she was in shock.

“Oh god.” She opened and closed her mouth, then shook her head. “I said I’m hoping to see you in a healthy relationship with a normal person, and he was right there!”

“And he was typing as fiercely as if this didn’t concern him,” Chris said, not without pride.

“Come here!” She strained against her seatbelt to give him a hug, and he met her halfway. His face buried in her hair, he smiled when he heard the distinct squealing she was never able to repress when she got emotional.

“I’m so happy!” There were tears in her eyes when she pulled back and they settled back in their seats, the seatbelts cutting into their middle uncomfortably by now. “Phichit is a good guy. A little bouncy but… a really, really good guy.”

She side-eyed him. “Victor knows, doesn’t he?”

Chris nodded. “We kept it a secret for a while, and for now we still only want our best friends to know. I don’t want to fuck this one up for a change, Sara. It’s really important to me.”

She nodded fervently. And squeezed his hand all the rest of the way until they arrived at the office.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“So, funny thing.” Phichit took a very slow sip of tea and lowered his mug just as slowly. He was over for dinner at Guang Hong’s while Leo was out doing his gym night. “Yakov was going to hire some Russian hacker to find all these pictures of Chris and make them disappear from the net, but… as it happens, they weren’t to be found. They were all gone already.”

“Mhm.” Guang Hong looked at him over the brim of his tea cup. “That’s funny indeed.”

He frowned, and they both drank more tea, looking at each other but said no more.

Later, when Guang Hong was washing the dishes, Phichit rose from his chair and stepped up beside him to pull him into a hug.

“Thank you!” he muttered, overwhelmed, face close to Guang Hong’s ear as he clung to him tightly. “Please let me know what I owe you!”

“Peach.” The smile was audible in Guang Hong’s voice, and he ran his hands soothingly over Phichit’s back. “That was a favour for a friend and if you ever mention wanting to pay me for it again I’m going to clobber you.”

Overcome with relieved laughter, Phichit embraced him once more for good measure before he reached for a tea towel and started drying the dishes Guang Hong had washed.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The next morning, Chris looked up when his door opened and Yuuri came in with the mail. Quiet and efficient as always, Yuuri placed the folder holding the neatly sorted mail next to the pile of reports Chris was pouring over.

An upbeat pop song was playing quietly on Chris’ phone’s playlist. He was almost instinctively tapping his pen along to the beat as he bent over his papers again while Yuuri collected the coffee cup like he did every morning. Since he had quit smoking, again, Chris found himself tapping his pen against his desk a lot. His fingers seemed to crave the feeling of holding on to something, and if he had paid attention like Yuuri did he would have noticed that he was holding the pen between his index and middle finger like he would have held a cigarette. The spoon made just the faintest clanking sound against the delicate china, as Yuuri placed it on his tray.

“Thank you, Yuuri,” Chris said without raising his eyes and without interrupting the tapping with his pen. 

He saw Yuuri nodding from the corner of his eye, then shifted slightly in his chair as he frowned at the page and underlined a section that he felt needed redoing.

“In case you didn’t know…”

Chris looked up. Yuuri had paused by the door. He turned his face sideways, looked just the slightest bit back over his shoulder but didn’t turn around when he spoke. “This is Phichit’s favourite song.”

He left the room, the door clicking softly in the lock as he closed it. Chris kept staring at the door long after Yuuri was gone. When his eyes returned to his computer screen he saw a new email in his inbox.

From: p.chulanont@crispinogiacometti.com

To: c.giacometti@crispinogiacometti.com

Subject: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: Dinner

_Christophe,_

_how would you like to have dinner at my place tonight?_

If his father could see him now, Chris thought. He would make a face like he had bit into a lemon. Quite possibly he would sneer. Chris didn’t give a damn. The only thing he gave a damn about was the words that appeared in a new email window as he chased his fingers over the keyboard and a smile took over his face.

From: c.giacometti@crispinogiacometti.com

To: p.chulanont@crispinogiacometti.com

Subject: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: Dinner

_Phichit,_

_I would love nothing more._


	8. The Sunrise And Your Sins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You might want to listen to [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tt2k8PGm-TI&list=PLBl6fKQ9cUCFgQRGcCNDhmFz7G0Brwkcp&index=14) from "I thought you'd never ask". I know I did.

**8 - The Sunrise And Your Sins**

Phichit was all but bouncing on his toes by the time the doorbell rang. He couldn’t remember when he had last felt so elated opening the door to a date. He had hurried home from work, stopped by the supermarket for some last fresh ingredients, and started cooking the moment he walked through the door. For a while he had propped up his laptop in the kitchen and spoken to his mother on video call while he was cooking and she was watching and advising. At some point his little sister had shown up on screen and teased him about going all out for a simple dinner date at his own apartment.

He was showered, dressed, and laying the table when the doorbell rang.

Chris was just tugging off his tie when the door swung open and he came into view. He hadn’t been outside in the cold long enough to bring it in with him, but there were some snow flakes still melting in his hair.

“Business casual.” He smiled and held up his tie like a trophy. Phichit felt like someone had emptied ten bags of fizzy sherbet into his veins. And then he laughed when he saw what Chris was holding in his other hand, the one that was not pulling his tie from his neck and opening the top two buttons of his shirt now.

“I brought dessert.” Green eyes flickered with mirth and Phichit took the glass of peaches and the bar of chocolate and placed them safely on the sideboard before anything could happen to them.

“Hi. Did you come straight from work?”

He let him in and waited until the door was closed behind them until he brought his arms around Chris’ neck and got on tip-toes for a kiss. He tasted warm, and of coffee, and the lack of cigarette had Phichit making a mental note to ask him later whether he was really finally succeeding at quitting smoking. But first he allowed himself to place another kiss on the stretch of skin just right above the starched collar of the white shirt, and he almost smiled against the warm skin there and caught a subtle yet greedy nose full of comforting cedar perfume that always smelt so delectable on Chris.

“Regrettably so.” Chris ran one hand through the strands of hair falling into Phichit’s face, smoothing them back so he could see him better while his other hand lay firm on Phichit’s lower back.

“Well, I’m glad you’re here now.” Phichit pulled a face when he heard the words that had just come out of his mouth. “Wow, that sounded very smitten rom com girl.”

“Or very Phichit.” Chris chuckled. Phichit blushed. He almost huffed, too, but regained his composure just in time as he finally took the coat Chris was carrying over one arm and he realised only now he had felt pressing into his side as they embraced.

Stepping into the apartment, Chris looked around with interest.

“I haven’t really seen any of our staff apartments for the longest time,” he admitted. “Last time I was here I…didn’t necessarily want to hang around.”

Last time, Phichit thought and bit back a comment. The morning after the Christmas party. So much had happened since then, it only hit him here and now that this was the first time that Chris was actually back in his apartment.

“I made some cocktails,” he said quickly, wanting to cut through the weird tension that memories of that night always seemed to tag along. “Without alcohol.”

He walked across the room into the kitchen area already and was about to open the fridge, but he turned around again.

“Do you want to sit on the couch and have a drink while I finish up some last bits and pieces in the kitchen?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Phichit.” Chris looked up with a cheeky smile from where he had been marvelling at a framed photograph of the Burj Khalifa on the living room wall. An echo of their weekend in Switzerland and the way Phichit had talked to him there swung in the words, no doubt fully intentional. Chris walked over in just a couple of strides and pulled out a chair from the kitchen table. “I’ll sit right here and keep you company.”

“Okay.” Phichit laughed. Casually, he hoped, and not letting on that he felt so buzzed he wanted to do cartwheels in his kitchen. He had never done a cartwheel in his life. That was how buzzed he felt.

He took two round bodied cocktail glasses from the fridge in which he had already prepared kumquats crushed with fresh mint and a syrup he had made from lime juice and brown sugar. He added ice and tonic water to each glass and put them both on the kitchen table, serving one to Chris while he went back to the stove to stir in the pot of simmering massaman curry sauce for a moment. Chris was watching him, Phichit was very aware of it. It made him as flustered as it made him want to grin into the pot. Every single one of his nerve ends seemed to be alive and tingling.

“You seem happy.”

Phichit paused, sauce dripping from the spoon where he was holding it halfway up to his mouth to sample when he turned around at the sound of Chris’ voice and found him watching him with his chin in his hand, one arm propped up on the table.

“I am,” Phichit decided. “I don’t have to hide anymore.” He put the wooden spoon down and turned off the stove before he took the seat nearest to Chris and pulled the glass he had placed there towards himself.

“The curry needs to simmer a little bit longer.” Phichit picked up his drink and took a generous drag through the straw.

“ _You_ seem pensive,” he said when he set his glass back down on the table.

Chris smiled. “Yes, I… had to think of the last time I was here and what a state I was in. It must have been such a burden on you. Were you bitching?” One of his eyebrows wriggled suggestively.

“Pretty much the entire time.” Phichit took a deep breath, but then a smile fought its way through.

“Phichit, don’t take this the wrong way, but…” Chris coughed, a little pointedly, as he placed his glass on the table without a sound. “Can I see your bedroom?”

It hung between them in the small space at the kitchen table, an undecided cloud that couldn’t make up its mind whether it wanted to rain or move on.

“You want to see your place of shame,” Phichit at last said quietly. The nod Chris gave in reply tugged most awkwardly on his heartstrings. “Christophe…”

“Phichit.” And damn him, but Phichit knew he would never be able to not comply when Chris said his name like this. So calm and charged with meaning. “I feel like I need to come full circle.”

“Okay.” Phichit rose from his seat. He checked on the stove and the rice cooker, making sure they could be left alone, but he still set a timer that he brought with him. They brought their glasses along too as Phichit led the way along the small hallway that was the same in all apartments of this building, two doors leading away from it to a bathroom and a bedroom. There was nothing to hide about his bedroom, Phichit knew. He had stuffed the pile of clothes he’d dug through before he got dressed back in the wardrobe and closed it. He had made his bed and ensured there was nothing lying beside or under it that might make him look anything else but smart and chilled.

“Ah. The famous feather boa.” The smirk was almost audible. Chris sauntered over to the pin board and ran a fingertip teasingly over the pink feathers.

Phichit placed the quietly ticking timer on the bedside table and sat down on his bed, watching him from across the room. Chris had taken off his suit jacket in the kitchen, and his shoulders looked broad in the starched white cotton shirt. The suit was tailor-made, needless to say, and Phichit brought his drink back to his mouth and closed his lips around the straw, which he considered much safer than allowing his mouth to utter any sounds that might want to slip out as he marvelled over the way the pants hugged Chris’ butt just right and how his legs looked even longer in black pinstripes.

“Did you take all these pictures?” Chris asked over his shoulder. Something seemed to course through him when he came to stand in front of the large space Phichit had filled with photographs of his family. Something that made him go very still, almost awed.

“Most of them, yes.” Phichit paused drinking momentarily. “I travelled a lot with my family, before I went to college and then came here.”

The bitterness of the tonic water and the kumquat peels mixed with the sweet, sweet taste of juice and sugar on his tongue. It tasted contradictory and just right. Just like all those moments he had thought about having Chris in his bedroom and none of them having been like this, the real thing. And yet it all came together, and he found it agreeable and inspiring, a wholesome taste he wanted more of. He let the let the straw slip from his mouth when he saw Chris tilt his head in front of the dried red rose.

“That was on my desk one Valentine’s Day,” Phichit said. “I never knew who left it.”

Chris turned around and walked towards him. “Secret admirer among the IT crowd?” Smiling, he took his glass from Phichit and sat down beside him on the edge of the bed.

“Maybe. I only ever got the one, I guess it stopped when Yuuri joined and the IT crowd’s attention wandered over to him like the eye of Sauron.” Phichit laughed.

For a couple of minutes they sipped their drinks in silence, though Phichit noted well how Chris looked around himself, brows slightly crinkled, and his face void of anything located in the here and now.

“I didn’t think I would ever be back here.” He sounded timid when he spoke. “I felt godawful. And not just because of the hangover. The bits I remember…” He exhaled loudly. “Let’s just say, when I think back I want to crawl under this blanket here and never come out again.”

Phichit felt the question burning on his tongue. He wanted to know just how much Chris really remembered. But the moment passed, and he didn’t ask, and then he realised that it was just as well, because he was afraid of an answer he wouldn’t like to hear.

“It was probably the most memorable Christmas party in the history of Crispino & Giacometti yet,” Chris remarked drily and raised his glass as if for a very bitter toast.

Phichit drank up the remaining contents of his own, stopping when his sucking on the straw started making annoying slurping noises on the bottom of the glass.

“The Christmas party.” He shook his head. “What were you thinking?? Pole dancing in your underwear! You’re our boss, for fuck’s sake! And what the hell was that with Victor?”

He looked to his side, where Chris was turning the glass around and around between his hands. Condensation water was dripping onto his thighs in his pinstriped suit. He didn’t seem to notice.

“I wasn’t thinking at all.” Chris didn’t look up when he spoke. Phichit thought he could feel the shame in every word, every turn the glass made between Chris’ fingers. “After that phone call with my father that morning I was trying to get through the day, somehow. Trying to hold it together. And then when all the duties were done I just wanted to forget. I wanted to drink and dance until I didn’t feel the pain anymore. Until I felt nothing.”

“I didn’t want to drive you home.” Phichit kept looking at him until Chris turned his head and met his eye. “I was so disappointed and annoyed by everything you did that night, and I felt so stupid because I was crushing on you, of all people. I wanted to have a drink and lick my wounds in private. I didn’t want to feel sorry for you. But I did. The moment Sara mentioned that thing about your father, I faltered. And I hated it. I said this before but I really hated every single minute of that night. I hated driving you home and hearing you cry and wanting to look after you. It pissed me off, just so you know. I didn’t want to do it.”

“But you did.”

His voice was mesmerising. His gaze was mesmerising. And Phichit, Phichit was only a man.

He reached for Chris’ face with his free hand and cupped one cheek.

“But I did.”

“Did you ever regret it?” Chris asked, with a voice no more than a shadow of his usual deep timbre.

“Millions of times.” Phichit grinned and moved in until their lips almost touched. “Never!”

On the bedside table, the timer rang shrilly and they jumped apart, just as their lips were beginning to search and find each other for a kiss. A deep sigh escaped Phichit’s mouth. It made Chris chuckle.

They got up and made their way back to the kitchen.

Phichit served fried Thai appetisers with a choice of sauces in small green bowls shaped like leaves. His mother didn’t let any of her children move out without an assortment of proper dishes, he explained. It made Chris smile and ask more about the pictures of the pin board. By the time they had the massaman curry with aromatic jasmine rice, they had breached on the topic of Phichit’s photography again.

“It’s probably not a very smart move, saying this to my boss…” Phichit heaped a spoonful of food into his mouth.

“I’m not your boss right now,” Chris reminded him with a cheeky smile across the table.

“Hmmm.” Phichit swallowed and lowered his spoon. “I don’t know if I want to be doing this for the rest of my life. Don’t get me wrong, I love social media and doing what I do, and it’s amazing, working under Sara, and working for C&G. But I love travelling and taking pictures, too. And if I’m very honest, I see myself doing much more of that in the future.”

Chris seemed to ponder over this for a moment. “I’ll just give you a raise then, so you won’t leave.” Laughter rang between them across the table.

“I don’t mean travelling to exotic places all the time,” Phichit said as he stirrred a little more sauce into the rice with his spoon. “I’ve probably seen and photographed more landmarks all over the world than most of the people I know. I like capturing the small moments, you know. Everyday people and how absolutely beautiful they and their lives can be. Something ordinary that turns something mundane into an absolute marvel.”

“Like snow.” Chris had lowered his spoon, watching him as he spoke.

“Like snow, yeah.” Phichit felt a little breathless, and he was sure he had rambled on with more vigour than would have been necessary. He shrugged. “Sorry. I get carried away.”

“I love it.”

The three little words made every single rice corn sink like a stone in Phichit’s stomach and yet he felt elated at the same time. Hearing the L word in context about himself, from Chris, was something he realised he had wanted for a long time and wasn’t really able to handle when it was spoken. It made him feel so giddy his body wanted to contract like the windings of a spring and then shoot him off his seat. Instead, he decided on letting the warmth of Chris’ voice and smile settle around him like a cloak of smoothest velvet and dark chocolate that made him feel invisible to the world and shining even brighter to Chris.

They ate dessert on the sofa, watching their usual quiz show that Phichit had taped because it had gotten later than planned, shouting answers at the TV screen around spoonfuls of peaches and cream.

“Big meeting tomorrow,” Phichit said when he was seeing Chris off by the door. He reached up to tug on Chris’ scarf, arranging it just a little more elegantly around his neck. It wouldn’t have been necessary for he already looked like a total babe again in his black winter coat with he soft cream-coloured cashmere scarf, but Phichit found he couldn’t stop touching him and grasped at every excuse to do so.

“Yes. Suit up, Mr Chulanont, so I have something to distract me.” Chris chuckled.

“Like _that_ would distract you when you’re in the zone.” Phichit rose on his toes again for his kiss goodnight. Or twelve. He was still leaning against his door with his back long after Chris had thanked him for dinner, and they had kissed until they were breathless and very nearly yanked the coat and the meticulously arranged scarf off of him again in a team effort, and the lift doors had closed and taken Chris away.

The grin on Phichit’s face was so wide it almost hurt in the corners of his mouth. He loved it.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The meeting was more than halfway through when it was Sara’s turn. She rose from her seat and went to the front the present the latest PR and social media facts as well as what they had planned for the upcoming year. Yura got to be up in front with her, the small remote for the beamer presentation in his hand as he assisted Sara with the slides. He looked like he still felt uncomfortable having to wear a suit. At least Sara let him go without a tie, and he couldn’t show his triumph often enough, shooting shark-like grins at Victor whenever their eyes met.

“Last but not least…” Sara pointed at the screen, where a new slide appeared, opening out from the centre of the previous one. Hushed snickers of amusement went around the conference room and Yura’s satisfied smile was well visible. Going wild on the slide transitions was a common phenomenon in the young employees.

“We’re planning a new image film as well, so Chris will be going to Milan soon to scout locations with Mickey, and Phichit will go with him to shoot some footage of our offices and our flagship store there.”

Heads moved around the table in various ways. Some people were merely nodding, to themselves or other colleagues, because this was nothing out of the ordinary. Sara did it all the time. Yuuri looked first at Phichit and then at Chris, his eyebrows knitted together as he tried to figure out whether they had set this up. But Chris looked mildly surprised, to say the least, even though he gave the faintest nod to indicate he fully trusted Sara. Phichit, on the other hand, looked like he wanted to whip up his head so fast it would have cinched his neck if he hadn’t mustered the strength to keep his astonishment down to eyes opening a little wider in surprise and his knees bobbing barely noticeably under the table. This clearly was news to him.

Once the meeting was over and Chris was back at his desk, he opened the company messenger.

**Christophe Giacometti**

**_online_ **

_I see what you’re doing there!_

**Sara Crispino**

**_online_ **

_I have no idea what you’re talking about_

_we need good pictures and I’m sending the best man I’ve got on my team for the job_

Chris leaned back in his chair and laughed.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Saturday was a freezing January day and a bad day for Phichit. The morning’s photoshoot with some cosplayers was giving him a massive headache when they insisted on posing in a cemetery and found that the one they had picked as their location was locked. They had to traipse across the city in their costumes and with oversized props until they got to the other cemetery, which wasn’t at all to their liking, and it was very visible in the photos Phichit took. Of course they blamed him for their pouts and frowns. His dry comment that the grumpy faces suited their costumes did not go down very well, and they didn’t even try to lower their voices when they talked about how he was a mediocre photographer at best who didn’t have the slightest idea about how to set a scene for cosplay. Phichit decided not to mention that his little sister was a massive _otaku_ and some of the best pictures in his portfolio were actually of her cosplaying. Or that his best friend was Japanese and something of a closet _otaku_ in his own right. The effort would have been wasted.

He crammed in his grocery shopping on the way home, not enough time for anything because the photoshoot took two hours longer than planned. At least he felt warm again after a quick shower, he thought as he grabbed his keys again on the way out. He was meeting everyone for lunch before they saw a movie. And he had meant to take greater care of his hair, maybe put on some eyeliner, to think a little harder about his outfit because he was toying with the idea of dropping by Chris’ place after the movie. But he was running late, and he knew that Yuuri would be waiting for them all to get out on time. Phichit squashed the tiny bout of irritation he felt about this in the frame of his door when he slammed it.

They had been looking forward to seeing this anime for so long, ever since Yuuri had come across the trailer on some Japanese website and excitedly shared it with the guys. It had taken a year until it was released overseas, and there were only very few screenings. Anime was still a rare thing to be shown on the big screen in Europe, and more often than not the times were something ridiculous like today - just one screening on Saturday afternoon. But ever since they had bought their tickets they had been giddy. Phichit’s sister had already seen the movie in Bangkok and wouldn’t stop flailing about it, and Phichit knew she was dying to talk about it with him.

He had thought doing the cosplayer photoshoot would add to the mood. But after the morning he’d had and the rush to get ready instead of getting in the right space of mind, Phichit felt a little hassled. And he felt guilty about it.

They met with Sara, Mila and Yura in town, the whole group of them chatting and laughing as they debated where to get a drink and something to eat before the movie. Eventually they decided to try their luck in the Irish pub right next to the cinema. It was too early for the football crowds, the afternoon matches not about to start for another hour.

“You don’t really want to be here, huh?”

Phichit turned his head in the direction the voice had come from. Yura was sitting beside him, a glass of coke in front of him where they squeezed side by side on the edge of the worn wooden bench in a niche where they had still found one of the larger tables. Phichit had to lean in a little to hear him over the Pogues drawling from the speakers and the babble of voices around them.

“I do.” Phichit smiled. He hoped it didn’t look as strained as it felt to himself.

“Okay, then… you wish he was here with us.”

Later, Phichit would realise it was this. This one tiny word that made him put down his glass of cider almost full and give Yura the money for it, asking him to pay for it when they left. _Us._ It was this word that made him become aware of how all of them except for Yura were happy couples. And he wanted that too. He had that person, and it was just as Yura had said. He wished he was here with them. He wished he didn’t have to divide his time between his friends and his boyfriend when everyone else had their person here with them. Phichit swung his knees around the corner of the bench so that he was able to get up more easily and rose from his seat. Already he could see his friends pausing in their conversations, heads lifting to look at him. He would have seen eyebrows knitted together in confusion but he started digging for his coat in the pile in the window sill behind him where they had all stuffed their winter gear.

“I’m sorry.”

For one split second Phichit wished they wouldn’t hear him. That he could just slip away unnoticed without having to say anything. He wished that they could see how torn he was. And how much he wished that there could be one Phichit who rose and walked out of this pub without anyone asking any questions and holding any grudges, but that there could be another Phichit who stayed right here with them. Phichit slid his arms into the sleeves of his coat and wished he could brush off the thoughts of the movie just as easily. Something else weighed heavier. He hated that he felt guilty about it, too.

How strange, he thought, looking into the faces he loved and not wanting to see them right now.

“I’m really sorry,” he said a little firmer. “I have to go.” Please understand, he added silently.

It looked like Yuuri was about to say something, and Phichit already steeled himself inwardly, when Victor brought one arm around Yuuri and gave his shoulder a little squeeze before he looked up at Phichit with a smile.

“Of course.” His smile was wide and genuine, unexpectedly soothing where Phichit had been ready to argue. “Have a nice day and evening, Phichit.”

“See you tomorrow, Peach.” Yuuri smiled too, smiled countless helpless apologies that he couldn’t have hidden if he’d tried to.

Phichit nodded and took his leave, leaving goodbyes and small waves behind. He already felt guilty by the time he reached his car in the underground car park. He was one of _those_ people now. The kind of people who ditch their friends for a new guy. And suddenly the gut feeling that had brought him here felt treacherous and made him question his decision. Phichit shook his head to clear it.

But his mind spiralled when he was alone in the car and drumming his fingers on the steering wheel as he circled several decks and then drove up the ramp and pulled into traffic, one of too many cars crowding the city centre on Saturday afternoon as the first shoppers went home and the late risers arrived. They became fewer as he left the city behind him, driving the familiar road almost on autopilot.

“You fucking asshole!” he yelled when another car cut him off and he hit the brakes hard.

Breaths like deep gashes seared through him and made him feel even more cut in half than he already did. Feelings he had been holding in for months suddenly poured out and overwhelmed him, piling guilt onto the mess he already was. That small gesture he had witnessed between Victor and Yuuri. It opened up such a big can of emotional worms. Phichit was completely blindsided by it. He felt torn, and he hated it. Nobody was tugging him in any direction, but he still felt like it, and it made him angry. Angry with Chris for not demanding more from him, and angry with Yuuri for not offering to include Chris in their group activities, not even for one small, innocuous thing like a drink in a bar. Angry with himself for not asking Yuuri outright, for feeling so chicken. And so, so helplessly angry with this whole situation. He had never wanted to feel this stuck in the middle. Or expected that wanting to accommodate everyone and leave everyone enough time would feel like he was leaving himself behind in the process. Phichit had never dated anyone who did not get on with his best friend, but then he had never had a best friend like Yuuri before.

By the time he parked in Chris’ driveway he had worked himself into a state. Part of him wanted to drive back into the city and sneak into the cinema to watch the movie with his friends like the plan had been all along. The other part wanted to jump out of the car and lean on the doorbell until Chris opened and he could hide inside their small bubble.

In the end he stayed in the car until his frantic breathing didn’t remind him of weird sobs any longer. Then he checked his face in the rear view mirror, grimaced at the sight of himself, and decided in a flaring up of defiance that Chris would just have to deal with it.

Chris was only momentarily surprised when he opened the door. And yet, his smile at the sight of Phichit sobered very quickly when he took one look at him and was instantly aware of the mood. Without a word and knowing that there would be no kiss hello just now, he let Phichit come in.

“You’re angry,” Chris stated the obvious and closed the door.

“I’m not.” Phichit shrugged off his coat. “Okay, I am.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Chris took his coat without a word.

“Can I have some hot chocolate?” Phichit spewed out the question like a dragon fire.

Chris smiled patiently. “Of course.” He hung up Phichit’s coat and disappeared in the kitchen.

When he came back with two mugs of hot chocolate, Phichit was standing by the terrace window, though he was not looking out into the garden but at the phone in his hand instead. Chris recognised the song that was playing very faintly, but more than that he saw the signs. The faint tremble in hunched shoulders. The repressed sound of distress. Phichit was crying, and it was obviously over a video of their best friends.

“Hey…” Chris put down the mugs of hot chocolate on the coffee table and crossed the room in just a few steps. He reached for Phichit’s hands and gently forced him to lower them, get the video out of his sight. “What’s wrong?”

Phichit shook his head, but Chris fought his resistance and held on to his wrists.

“Come here.” He pulled him close and only then let go of his wrists, wrapped his arms around him. “What’s wrong, Phichit?”

“Nothing!” It sounded defiant and teary.

Despite all Chris had to smile into his hair. “You show up here hours before you were going to, flaming angry, obviously ditched your friends to be with me, but now you’re crying over a video of them. Doesn’t sound like nothing to me.”

Phichit tore himself free. “I’m a horrible person and a horrible friend!”

Chris inhaled sharply. “Bullshit.”

“This!” Phichit held up his phone with one hand. “It killed me. The beauty of it. These two with their stupid Euphoria. Everything came together so perfectly, that song, and the lights, and the dry ice, and the way they moved, like their bodies are two fucking halves of one whole and they were making each other complete. I was sitting there, one moment over the moon with happiness for my best friend, and the next moment I wanted to cry because it was so perfect it was unreal.”

He was sobbing. Chris only looked at him. He still didn’t understand, but he was listening intently.

“I’m just… such an idiot! And then I do this to myself and watch this video and make it worse!”

“What about this video, Phichit?” Chris asked, one hand on Phichit’s shoulder as if he was scared of touching more of him and scared of not touching him at all.

“I was with everyone and was missing you, so I ditched them, even though we had planned this for so long. And now I’m here with you and I miss them. I want to be with them, with you! I hate having to split myself in two. I want to be one of those couples I find myself surrounded with all the time. I want _this_!” He lifted his phone again like an accusation.

“Fuck!” He wiped at his eyes with the back of his hands. “I never told anyone, I don’t know why it caught up with me now.”

“Tell _me_!” Chris was watching him, ready to catch him should he fall. “It’s obviously important.”

“I love Yuuri to the moon and back.” Phichit sniffed. “I love both of them and what they have but sometimes I am just so… _jealous_ of what they have. That night there, I was! And then Victor did that chivalrous thing and asked me to take Yuuri home because he didn’t want to take advantage of him. And Yuuri! He was so adorable. He actually asked me if I thought Victor might like him too! It was almost laughable, and I wanted to cry! I’ve never seen two more people more in love and then the one doesn’t want to have a drunk fuck and the other is insecure if the feeling is mutual and I kept thinking: are you two idiots even real??? _Like_ him too!”

He snorted and tossed his phone onto the couch.

Chris just looked at him, how he was shaking with sobs, angry fists balled by his sides and tears on his face,snot coming out his nose with a small bubble when he huffed, and Chris’ heart ached.

“It killed me and I wanted to tell someone and there was nobody there. I sat at that bar and was bursting at the seams with feels and there was nobody to share them with.”

“I know,” Chris said softly.

“No, you don’t!” Phichit snapped. “Nobody knows! I was sitting there like a fucking moron dying to share this with someone because it was tearing me apart… If I could have nudged someone and said: Wow, can you believe we _saw_ that! Sometimes something is just so fucking beautiful that it hurts and makes you want to cry your heart out!”

Chris took a deep breath. “Phichit, I was _there_. That night. I was there! I saw them.”

“No!” Phichit glared at him. “You were gone. You sat by the bar the longest time, alone when Victor got up to dance with Yuuri. I know, because I took a picture of you in secret because you looked so lonely and sad and so fucking gorgeous. Do you know how beautiful you are when you’re sad?”

“No, Phichit! I stayed! I was hiding out of sight. But I saw them and I hated myself for being so jealous of my best friend. I felt like such a bastard, really disgusted with myself. I watched them up there and I felt not worthy.”

For a moment Phichit looked at him, indignant. He felt like that day he had come here to explain his feelings to Chris, like a bottle of fizzy new wine the cork had popped off, only worse, and fizzier. He didn’t want to hold back any more, didn’t want to keep anything else inside.

“I was about to come over to the bar where you sat. I was so desperate not to be alone at this moment and with my stupid crush on you, and I thought, the hell with it, maybe I can just gather enough courage because how much worse could I possibly feel? The shallow and empty feeling after a drunken one night stand couldn’t possibly feel worse than what I was feeling anyway.”

Chris sighed. “Phichit… you weren’t drunk, but I was. I would have taken you home and fucked you and not given a damn if I called you a cab in the morning and didn’t remember your name.”

“I KNOW! And I was ready to go for it! That’s how low I felt at that moment. I thought I could handle being fucked and cast aside in the morning and not be remembered because you were drunk. I stupidly thought I could actually handle it. I was all set on coming over, and if you’d wanted to take me home I would have gone with you, that’s how low I felt! I’d convinced myself that a one-night-stand wouldn’t matter, because people do it all the time, and I was just so desperate for someone to hold me, for some closeness of my own. I just couldn’t stand to be alone! But you were gone!”

“Oh Phichit…” Chris took a deep breath. It sounded like his heart was breaking.

“I’m sick of this! I’m sick of feeling guilty no matter who I’m with, and I’m sick of finding these… feelings inside of me I never revealed to anyone and suddenly they catch me unawares and I don’t know what to do with them!” He all but shook with agitation. “Where were you, Christophe?? Where the fuck were you when I needed you!”

“I’m sorry.” Chris reached for his hands again, fought him when Phichit tried to pull back and turn away. He held on to his wrists until he felt Phichit stop fighting and just looked back at him. Until he heard him.

“I’m so sorry, my heart. So sorry I didn’t see sooner that I needed you, too.”

Phichit threw himself at him the next moment. Chris buried his face in Phichit’s hair. They clung to each other like it was not enough, would never be enough unless they found a way to claw their way in and hide inside each other.

“Idiot!” Phichit sniffed somewhere against his throat. “That must be the most romantic thing you’ve ever said to me.”

He pulled back just a little, not trying to wrestle out of Chris’ arms again.

Chris’ hands came up, gentle fingers catching the last remnants of tears and writing all the emotions he didn’t dare put into words onto Phichit’s skin instead.

“Let me go wash my face, I look a mess.” Phichit smiled. It looked almost bashful, now that he realised the full extent of his outburst.

Chris shook his head. He ran his thumb across Phichit’s bottom lip. “You look beautiful. So beautiful with all this raw emotion.”

Phichit felt that his breath still sounded shaky as they looked at each other, just looked, losing all sense of time and place.

“Phichit.” Chris’ voice was hoarse when he broke the silence.

“Yeah?”

“Can I take you to bed?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

The late winter afternoon sun poured red and orange in through the large window, painting the bedroom the vibrant, tethering colour of yearning. The hunger of moments ago had dispersed over the short time it had taken them to walk up the stairs hand in hand, and Phichit felt almost timid when the door closed behind them, the soft click like a promise.

They stood at the foot of the bed, so close together that they touched in some places, and craved in others. Phichit raised his face up to Chris’ and closed his eyes to the evening sun. He breathed him in, let the warmth of him seep into his every pore, and was amazed by how burning desire could slow him down so much. But their faces kept searching, skimming just lightly, the beard grazing over his cheek where he let it touch Chris’ chin. By the side of their bodies, their fingers brushed where their hands tried to maintain a control nobody could have explained, other than that it was the continuation of what their faces were doing, being close closer closest without getting close enough. They both knew that if they went one step further, if they so much as kissed, they would burn down the house.

Phichit heard a breath hitch, desperate, wanting, and realised it was his own.

“Phichit…”

Just one word, a rare speck of something dark and intriguing and hopelessly longing, just his name and hot breath against his ear and the barely there touch of Chris’ mouth before they moved their faces some more, foreheads touching, noses bumping and sighs mingling, and Phichit hoped that the heat he could still feel burning in his cheeks from all his crying would not become too much.

Unable to stand the tension any longer, Phichit opened his eyes. Chris was looking right back at him.

Their fingers hooked into each other. Their lips touched.

And the red of the winter sunset become the fiery wave that crashed and burnt them underneath it.

Phichit was sure that clothes had never been discarded so quickly, everything that was in any way a hindrance pulled and tossed away and it was still not enough. He already felt feverish and he still wanted more. They kissed with an almost brutal passion, and Phichit wanted to smile when he felt Chris was not holding back, plundering his mouth like he wanted all of him. And Phichit gave, and gave, kissed like he had never kissed anyone before, like he would die if he stopped even to breathe. He let his hands be held in place on the bed over his head, Chris’ firm grip on his wrists a welcome distraction from all the places he was burning up in. His back arched into the touch of Chris’ body, moulded himself into every sinewy bend and angle and breathless groan of his name.

They rolled around on the bed, exploring, struggling, needing. On his hands and knees, Phichit threw back his head and bit his lip, straining back against the grip of Chris’ arm strung around his middle and the mouth buried in his shoulder, hot breath and words scattered over every inch of skin they could reach. He saw the hand reach for the drawer in the bedside table and almost sobbed with relief when he saw Chris getting lube and condoms.

In the fading light of the early winter evening, Phichit reached back behind himself, moved himself seductively into a position that would have risen a corpse from the grave with a raging hard on and gladly accept the offer that was so willingly presented. But not Christophe Giacometti.

“No!” he murmured against his ear, and his voice ran all over Phichit like velvet caress. “I want to see you.”

It made a new happiness burst inside Phichit’s heart, and deeper, perhaps his soul, he couldn’t say for sure, until he found himself on his back, reaching up with his hands and his eyes and his whole self. The desperate need of their fierce embrace that they had lost a little more of with every step they climbed up to the bedroom was back with a vengeance, drawing moans from them and leaving bright red marks where Phichit ran his nails over Chris’ back.

For a moment they stilled, heaping meaning onto this very basic motion of Phichit wriggling just the slightest bit underneath him, dismissing physical differences, straining closer, opening further, welcoming the thick heat of cock where until moments ago slender fingers that knew exactly what they were doing had stroked sobs and sighs out of him.

It was primal, and elating, every move whipping pleasure through their bodies and bringing them closer.

Phichit couldn’t have said what gave him the power to flip them over but only the weakest sign of confusion passed across Chris’ face on which bliss and arousal reigned supreme. It seemed so natural to him to find Phichit rising over him, slamming down on his cock while his thighs held Chris in a grip not unlike hot iron. Chris brought his hands up to still the frantic roaming of Phichit’s hands over his damp chest and their fingers entangled like they had been given them for no other purpose in life but this one.

Phichit closed his eyes for a moment to add impact to the feeling. And it felt. So. Good. Every inch felt so good, dragging along inside him when he rose on his thighs, and it felt even better when he slammed back down, forceful and eager, taking everything and gripping it with a body that was suddenly made of need and desire.

“God, you’re gorgeous!”

Chris’ voice was like a match held on to the dry tinder that was the pathetic rest of Phichit’s restraint. It burnt away in two seconds, leaving nothing but the liquid fire that was Phichit moving.

His eyes opened, struggled to do so, but this was his evening. He would have everything tonight.

“Touch me!” Phichit’s voice was nothing but desperation, a needy plea that seeped seamlessly into a moan when he felt the hand fist around his erection promising release.

They were nothing but motion and moans and madness. Phichit had thought about this, but not even his wildest dreams could have painted this sea of colours and sensations. He felt his hair sticking damp to his forehead, just one almost unpleasant thing right at this moment. He brushed it away impatiently, and the way Chris’ eyes widened with new interest at the sight of his face so completely open, nothing hidden behind veils of hair, made him feel silly with joy for an instant.

He collapsed when he came all over his stomach and Chris’ hand, like cinders scattering in the wind, but he felt the shudder running through Chris’ body, one last helpless bucking of hips. He heard the release in his low groan when he slumped down on top of him, and he smiled when Chris’ arms came around him almost immediately. Now this part was exactly like Phichit had imagined. He had hoped that Chris would be quiet, smooth and strong like the dark chocolate they liked, and just as rich and addictive. He had hoped that Chris would hold him, afterwards, when they were sated and just a few daring sparks left of everything they would burn down in their first greedy coming together.

Phichit was lying still with his head pressed against Chris’ chest. Under his ear he could hear the steady pounding of a beating heart, while he was drawing intricate patterns into the thin film of sweat coating Chris’ skin with one fingertip.

“What are you writing?”

Chris’ voice was like a caress on its own. Phichit felt it trail all over him, leaving shivers in its wake.

“Maybe one day I’ll tell you.” He smiled against Chris’ skin.

It had become dark now, the faint shimmer he could see through the window hinting at where the fairy lights were illuminating the garden somewhere out there below them. Phichit felt the slight shift of the body beneath him, one arm lifting from the safe cocoon all around him.

“No.”

The arm stilled at the sound of Phichit’s voice.

“Don’t turn on the light. I just want to feel you. Feel this.”

He smiled when Chris’ held him tight again with both arms. It was enough, Phichit realised. He didn’t need any light. He carried enough light and warmth for the both of them.

That night he fell asleep feeling fallen apart and put back together.

And when he woke with the sunrise and let himself be seduced again, Phichit thought that this had been worth falling apart for.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

On Wednesday, Chris left his meeting much earlier than he had anticipated. He had cleared his whole afternoon after the first talks had been so tedious and both him and Victor had expected the actual meeting to be yet another prolonged haggling over conditions and percentages like all the preceding emails and phone conferences. But it had gone smoothly, and even Steph’s meticulous read-through of the contract had found no loopholes or secret rephrasing, albeit three typos, and Chris knew how small things like that could set her off.

He was early for meeting Victor so he spontaneously decided to pick him up at home, and take him out to a restaurant to celebrate the successful conclusion of a contract with a new business partner. He said goodbye to Steph after she declined a lift from him and sent Victor a quick text to let him know he was on his way.

A smug grin played around his mouth when he found a parking space almost directly in front of Victor’s building. There was a spring to his step as he crossed the marble foyer, called the lift up to Victor’s apartment and rang the bell. He heard Makka bark once, and it made him smile. After a moment, the door swung open, and the effect was immediate, like a shower of ice water catching Chris unawares.

It was not Victor who opened the door. It was Yuuri.

And the mutual silent reaction of ‘Oh _fuck_!’ at the sight of each other was so acute it was almost audible.

For a moment they just stood there, sizing each other up, and Chris felt reminded of the Western movies he and Victor had been allowed to watch with Yakov on Saturday evenings when they were children, sitting side by side on the couch after their bath in little towel robes and wet hair combed into accurate side partings. He felt about six years old again too for a fleeting instant. Then he squared his shoulders.

“Chris.” It was as much of a greeting as he was going to get, and Chris knew it.

He gave the faintest nod in return. “Yuuri.”

“I thought you were meeting Victor at work.” Yuuri was still leaning against the half opened door, one hand on Makka’s head as she curiously came to check on who was calling. At least he hadn’t slammed the door in his face yet, Chris thought.

“I was, but the meeting was over sooner than we all thought. He probably didn’t read my text that I was going to pick him up here.”

Yuuri nodded. He made a low humming sound, but both reactions were brief, intuitive politeness.

If there had been a clock in Victor’s hallway they would have heard them ticking by, the endless minutes they spent standing there, eyeing each other cautiously over the gap that was supposed to be the happiness of the people dearest to the both of them. It seemed impossible to breach. Chris knew he was still going to try, he knew he had never wanted having to do something so much in his life.

“Yuuri.” Chris took a deep breath. “There are a lot of things I would like to apologise for.”

Yuuri just looked at him. His face gave nothing away.

“Can we talk?” Chris asked after minutes that felt like years.

More small eternities crawled by, until at last Yuuri made a sound that was the secret love child of a huff and a sigh.

“You better come in then.” He moved aside to let Chris into Victor’s apartment.

Chris followed him into the kitchen after he placed his coat and scarf on one of the hangers on Victor’s wardrobe. How odd, he thought, knowing that the both of them were absolutely at home here in Victor’s apartment, but he let Yuuri lead the way. Makka trailed off to her bed instead of coming with them, satisfied with the pets and affection she had managed to get out of both of them.

“Coffee?” Yuuri asked when Chris pulled out a chair from the kitchen table and sat down. He nodded, and watched Yuuri move around Victor’s kitchen. It filled his heart with warmth, knowing Victor’s feelings very well and seeing how they were not wasted on the wrong person. Yuuri seemed to belong here.

“It’s not civet poop coffee but I hope Victor’s fancy Italian stuff is okay.” Yuuri’s mouth twitched a little as he looked up from measuring ground coffee into the machine.

So did Chris’ when he replied, “I’ll live. Probably.”

“So.” Yuuri turned around while the coffee machine came to life with quiet hissing and bubbling, and the glass jug steamed over from the inside as the hot liquid began to pour into it a thin, aromatic stream.

They stared at each other a little longer.

“This whole situation,” Chris began calmly. “It hurts Phichit.”

“I know.” Yuuri held his gaze.

“I don’t like that.” Chris sounded firm.

“That makes two of us.”

“That makes one thing we have in common.”

Yuuri huffed a little and turned away to get two mugs down from one of the kitchen cabinets.

“I know…” Chris cleared his throat like driving out fears and doubts and ran one hand through his hair. “I know that what I have said that night was unforgivable. I would still like to apologise. For accepting that bet and letting it run on as long as it did. I told you I never had any intention of taking Victor up on it. That is the truth. The bet was off when you started getting serious. Bringing it up on purpose and depriving Victor of the chance to tell you himself was a shitty thing to do. Hurting the both of you in the process was a shitty thing to do. Saying all these things I said at the Christmas party was wrong and disgusting, and I wish I hadn’t. I wish with all my heart that I hadn’t. I am deeply, deeply sorry.”

The coffee machine had fallen silent while Chris spoke. The aroma of freshly made expensive coffee wafted in the room between them like a reminder of a world in which pleasant things existed even though they were here, caught in so much hurt and bitterness.

“Okay.” Yuuri nodded. “I accept your apology.”

Chris didn’t dare ask for more. He knew he had no right to. He watched Yuuri switch off the machine and pour coffee into the mugs. Open the cutlery drawer and get two spoons. Walk over to the fridge.

“Thank you,” Chris said quietly.

Yuuri nodded again, barely noticeably. He opened the fridge and groaned a little. “I keep forgetting that there’s never any milk in this house, though I’m sure I saw some of those little packs of condensed milk in here.”

He dove in, rummaging around Victor’s fridge and moving expensive cheese about.

“Bottom shelf,” Chris remarked. “Behind the glasses of pickle juice.”

“Yeah, what is that all about?” Yuuri’s voice became louder again when he straightened up and closed the fridge, several small round plastic containers of condensed milk in one hand.

He placed them on the table already, then went to get the coffee and the spoons.

“Russian hangover remedy extraordinaire,” Chris said.

“Disgusting,” Yuuri said.

The ghost of a smile passed between them.

“What I don’t understand…” Yuuri sat down on the chair opposite of him and pushed a mug of steaming coffee towards Chris, who acknowledged it with a quiet murmur of thanks. “How could you? Victor is your best friend. He loves you. Why would you do that to him?”

Chris watched his own hands pulling the lid of a small container. “I was jealous.”

“Yes. I heard Victor tell you that. And I understand that it can be hard, seeing your best friend being happy when you feel shitty yourself but… why would you do that to _him_?”

Chris finished stirring condensed milk into his coffee and looked back up. “I honestly couldn’t tell you. The only reason I can give, and I know that doesn’t excuse anything, is that I was hurting and wanted to lash out.”

“At the people closest to you? The ones who care about you the most?” Yuuri made it sound like an accusation.

“I... and I’m not proud of this, would have lashed out at anyone, regardless in what relation they are to me. Sometimes the pain just becomes so deep that you want it... away from you. And then the happiness of the people around you can become so unbearable, you want them to feel some of what you are going through. That morning I had a very toxic phone call from my father. You know what he gets like, you’ve had to listen to him bitch down the phone.”

Yuuri nodded as brought the coffee mug to his mouth.

“He was pissed off because the majority of the board had voted not to press charges against Georgi. He blamed me. My non-existent skills at leadership. He called me a lot of things during that phone call. Weak. Soft. Too patient. A faggot. I felt a lot of pain that day and I had no opportunity to hide somewhere and take it out on myself like I wanted to because we had the Christmas party and I knew it was my duty to function. I was in pain and I wanted to numb it, any way I could. I have no other explanation, Yuuri, and I have no excuse. And I don’t want to insult you or myself with that lame excuse that I had a difficult childhood.”

Something akin to acknowledgement sparked up in Yuuri’s eyes. It was fleeting, but Chris noted.

“I had a shitty childhood in terms of parental love. But I should have realised much sooner that I have been blessed with people who gave me what my parents never could or would, and I should have acknowledged that sooner.”

“I suppose sometimes we need to fall very deep and break completely before we can start becoming whole again,” Yuuri said quietly. “Take every single piece of ourselves into our hands and decide if we want that to stay or go.”

Chris smiled weakly. Suddenly he felt tears burning in his eyes. “That’s pretty much how I’m feeling. I’m still sifting through. We cannot go back and make things undone, unfortunately. So I have to suck it up and hope to be able to mend the things I’ve broken.”

“Would you, if you could? Go back and make things undone?”

“What I did to you and Victor - in a heartbeat. What I did to myself - I honestly don’t know. I feel like I’m alive, only now. I don’t feel numb anymore. I’m letting things in and it’s fucking painful. But for some reason it’s also…” He shrugged. “Healing?”

They drank in silence for a while. Yuuri got up to make more coffee.

“Have you ever wondered what you would have done if Victor had told you about the bet himself?” Chris asked when they were on their second coffee.

“Loads of times.” Yuuri blew on the steaming liquid in his mug. “I never tell him that I do. He felt so bad about it all, and we lost so much time because of it. But of course I wonder.” He blushed. His eyes blinked behind his glasses, and suddenly Chris understood why Victor found salvation in those eyes.

“He’d be mad if he knew I’m keeping this from him.”

“He would.” Chris smiled. “But I appreciate you wanting to spare him the painful thoughts.”

“I was so excited to work for you. You know that picture on Victor’s desk? The one of the four of you, where you’re lifting Sara up? I’ve kept the magazine you took those pictures for in my desk all these years. Every time I open my desk I see it. It’s been my driving force at school and at college, this is what brought me here. I wanted to work with the four people in those pictures. Be part of what you were standing for. And then I came to know Sara first, and she’s so nice. I thought you must all be like that. I was so excited to get that position as your personal secretary. And then you were an ass.”

Yuuri fell quiet. The colour in his cheeks deepened. “I’m sorry, but you were an ass. You were a fantastic boss, and a shitty human being.”

“I cannot argue with that, so I won’t.”

“I was so disappointed. I complained to Phichit every day.” Yuuri hurled the words at him like a challenge.

“I figured as much.” Chris smiled very faintly. He drank another sip, almost scalded his mouth. Then he placed his mug carefully on the table. “Yuuri. I don’t think there’s anything negative of me you haven’t seen yet. I dare say you know all my bad sides. Do you think you could, in time, perhaps give the good sides a chance? I’m sure I have them, even though I’m still unearthing them myself. At least for Victor and Phichit’s sake. Because I can see how torn they feel, being caught in the middle. I don’t care that much about me, but I don’t want them to hurt.”

Yuuri looked at him over his coffee cup.

“No.”

Chris took a resigned breath. Fair enough. He almost said it out loud.

“Not for them,” Yuuri spoke up again. “I want to like you for _you_. I want to see that you are that person Victor loves and cherishes like a brother. The guy my best friend is crazy about. I want to know if I was right, respecting and admiring you for your accomplishments in business because there’s a decent person behind this hard work. But I’ll need time. I _want_ to like you. For Victor and Phichit’s sake, because I cannot see them hurt either, but also for my own. For the dreams I came to work for this company with. For that picture in my desk drawer. But I need to get to know you a whole lot better.”

“I understand.”

“If you hurt Victor ever again—”

“I won’t, Yuuri. Not deliberately.”

Yuuri’s eyes narrowed. “And if you hurt Phichit…”

“I’m dead.”

“And don’t you forget it!”

The hint of a cheeky smile was lurking in the corners of Yuuri’s mouth when he raised his coffee mug and met Chris’ in a toast that was unusual as everything else about this meeting.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Victor was just switching off his computer after sending the last email of the day when he reached for his phone to check his messages. Chris had been gone forever. Not that they hadn’t excepted it, but he sure should have gotten in touch by now, even if they had not come to an agreement.

His eyes widened when he saw Chris’ text from almost two hours ago.

_Finished early. Pick you up at home, we need to celebrate._

Victor frowned lightly. No wonder Chris hadn’t shown up here to meet him like they had agreed upon. If he had gone to collect him from home he would have gone in vain because Victor was still in the office and…

“Fuck!”

Victor jumped up and grabbed his things in record time. He called a quick goodbye to Georgi as he rushed out and waited impatiently for the lift, muttering curses under his breath all the way home as dread pooled in his gut and just kept on growing.

Of all the things Victor had expected to find upon his arrival home, laughter from the kitchen had not been one of them.

“Hi!” He walked into the room, not even trying to mask his surprise as he leaned down for a kiss from Yuuri.

“You didn’t kill each other.” He looked pointedly from one to the other, one hand resting on the back of the chair behind Yuuri’s back.

“You seem surprised.” Yuuri looked just a little flustered.

“Why, yes, my darling, and I believe I have every reason.” Victor placed another kiss on Yuuri’s cheek before he took the chair next to Yuuri’s and sat down. He scanned the table with his eyes, saw several opened containers of condensed milk, two plates and mugs, spoons and dessert forks. His eyes found Chris’ across the table.

Chris smiled at him, a little too smugly for Victor’s taste. “He fed me cake, too.”

“ _My_ cake?” The words were out before Victor could stop himself. “I mean… not that I wouldn’t happily sacrifice a piece of cake if it means you two are actually talking!”

Chris hid a smile behind his hand.

Yuuri shook his head, smiling a little as he rose from his seat and went over to the fridge. He took out a plate he had put in there earlier, got another dessert fork from the drawer, and placed the last piece of cake in front of Victor, who beamed up at him with his heart-shaped smile. Watching them, Chris felt invisible for a moment. Like they were in a world of their own and he was merely on the outside looking in. The need to text Phichit was suddenly overwhelming.

Yuuri got another round of coffee going and they fell into talking as Victor asked Chris how the meeting had gone. Yuuri’s phone rang and made them all pause. He picked it up from the kitchen counter and glanced at the caller ID. Then he smiled, connected the call and brought the phone to his ear.

“Hi Peach.” His face softened and he looked exceedingly like he was trying to bite back a grin.

“Yuuri! I’m sorry!” Phichit sounded a little agitated. There was the low humming of an engine in the background, and that slight distant echo of someone calling on speaker from the car while driving. “I’ve literally only just finished. Where are we meeting up? It’s probably best if I meet you there directly, traffic is crazy at this time of day.”

“Actually, Peach…” Yuuri looked around the kitchen table, looked back and forth between Chris and Victor’s faces and their deepening smiles. “There’s been a change of plan. Why don’t you come straight to Victor’s?”

For a long moment all he could hear was the humming of the engine in Phichit’s car. Then one lone syllable was uttered, masking Phichit’s confusion only badly.

“Why?” 

“You’ll see when you get here.”

“Don’t do this to me, Yuuri Katsuki, tell me _now_!”

“Don’t get too excited when you’re driving! Just come to Victor’s place, you’ll see.”

He hung up before Phichit could ask any more.

Yuuri lowered his arm, still holding his phone in his hand, as he looked at Victor.

“How about you order some pizza? I think this looks like a spontaneous men’s night in.”

“That’s a fantastic idea!” Victor reached for his phone that he had placed beside his plate before he started eating. “I’ll try to sweet-talk Ciao Ciao into delivering.”

“What do you mean ‘delivering’?” Chris seemed shocked. “Celestino’s doesn’t deliver.”

Victor had the good grace to blush. His hand stilled on his phone as he glanced a little sheepishly at Yuuri like he was in on his secret, even though Yuuri looked at least as confused as Chris did. Genuinely confused.

“Sometimes… very rarely…” Victor coughed into his hand. “I mean basically never. I can talk them into delivering to me.”

They jumped when Chris’ hand came down on the table. “They do it for you as well??”

“What do you mean ‘as well’?” Victor gaped.

“Well…” Now Chris looked flustered. “Sometimes I can get them to deliver,” he murmured. “You and Sara weren’t supposed to know.”

Victor started to laugh. He picked up his phone and called up the menu. “Sometimes Sara and I get them to deliver too. _You_ weren’t supposed to know.”

Chris was momentarily speechless. Something like betrayal seemed to flit across his face.

Yuuri had watched their exchange with wide eyes for a moment, but he started laughing as well. “You’re unbelievable, both of you, and Sara too,” he decided and turned to Victor. “You’d better make them have bruschetta too, since you can obviously do magic where Celestino’s is concerned.”

It was Victor who opened the door to Phichit.

“Hi.” Phichit looked Victor curiously up and down. “What’s going on? Are we having a threesome? I’m not dressed for a threesome! I should at least have gotten my feather boa.”

Victor laughed and winked suggestively. “You look fabulous, darling. You’ll do.”

He held the door open for Phichit to come inside and Phichit laughed as he walked in, though the sound died instantly in his throat and he paused mid-movement in unwinding his scarf from around his neck.

“That’s Christophe’s coat!” He nodded at the black Italian winter coat on the wardrobe. “He’s _here_??”

Victor nodded.

“Okay. How many casualties?” Phichit unbuttoned his coat and slipped it off his shoulders.

“See for yourself.” Victor pointed towards the living room and took Phichit’s coat from him.

The deep, pleasant “Phichit.” overlapped with the slightly flustered “Hi Peach.”, and in all his years of expressing himself, not even Phichit’s eyebrows wanted to do anything coherent just now.

“Hi...” Phichit said carefully as he paused in the living room entrance to take in the scene. Chris and Yuuri were sitting on the couch, not terribly close but closer than Phichit had thought he’d be seeing them for a long time. They looked in a good mood and neither of them seemed to be missing any limbs.

“What did I miss?” He came closer, crossed the room until he sat down on the shorter side of the couch from where he had a good view of the both of them.

“We talked,” Yuuri said.

Phichit’s eyebrows shot up.

“And we’ve cleared up some things,” Chris said and looked at Yuuri as if for reassurance. Yuuri nodded. Phichit thought his jaw was actually hurting a little, that was how hard he was stopping it from falling into his lap.

The doorbell rang. “I’ll get it!” Victor called from the hallway.

“And... you’re good?” Phichit looked from one to the other, still a little uncertain.

“As good as we can be at the moment.” Chris smiled.

“But planning on getting better,” Yuuri hastened to add.

“Chris!”

“Victor.” Chris looked up to where the voice had come from the archway in the wall that led to the living room from the hallway .

“Get your arse off my couch and help me with the food.”

Chris sighed and rolled his eyes for show but he got up with a “But of course, _mon cher_.”

The moment he vacated his seat near Yuuri on the couch, Phichit shot out of his and pounced on Yuuri, who caught him in one of the biggest hugs they had ever shared.

It was a good evening. Like only the spontaneous ones are. They ate their way through several cartons of bruschetta and pizza, and the room was ringing with the sound of talk and laughter and beer bottles clanking together. Phichit still seemed overwhelmed when he picked up some empty beer bottles and carried them into the kitchen. He kept turning to look back like he still couldn’t believe his eyes, but Yuuri and Chris were actually really talking about the best Japanese restaurants in the city and the whole area.

“Victor! What is happening?” Phichit sounded just a little bit hysterical as he placed the bottles on the table beside some other ones already deposited there, while Victor was scooping ice-cream into small bowls.

“Am I having a weird dream of what I most secretly desire?”

Victor stopped what he was doing and stepped up beside him, both of them looking out into the living room now. “I have no idea, Phichit, but if this is a dream, then I’m having the same one.”

He handed Phichit one of the bowls. “Dessert?”

“Always.” Phichit grinned and headed back out to slump down on the couch.

“I would have loved to be a fly on the wall the moment Yuuri opened the door.” Phichit giggled some time later. The power of several bottles of beer gave his courage wings to fly.

“To be honest, I was expecting to find a blood bath,” Victor remarked drily. It earned him indignant glares from both Yuuri and Chris. “I think I cut a very dark orange traffic light hurrying home. I’ll be sending you the ticket if I get one.”

Chris just wriggled his eyebrows and smirked.

“Actually, I felt reminded of those Western movies my father likes to watch. We call them macaroni Western in Japan.” Yuuri grinned. “For a moment I thought I could hear someone play a harmonica somewhere.”

A chuckle passed between him and Chris. Phichit slid down on the couch in an attempt to nudge Victor’s foot with his, but Victor was already looking at the two of them in utter disbelief while a smile was beginning to contort his mouth.

“I thought of those, too!” Chris leaned forward, addressing Victor. “Remember when we watched them with Yakov on Saturday nights when I stayed over? Lilia always made us have a bath after dinner, and then we sat on the couch in front of the TV in our little robes.”

“Yes!” Victor laughed. “And she insisted on combing our wet hair and gave both of us the same idiotic side parting, and yours were always curling up again already.”

“And there was exactly one ice-cream for each of us while we watched the movie.”

“Please tell me there are pictures of you two like that!” Phichit sat up straight, excitedly voicing an interest that was blatantly written all over Yuuri’s face as well.

“I’m sure Lilia has pictures.” Victor frowned. “I remember her taking them, because she got really pissed off when we tried to mess up our hair that she had combed so carefully.”

“Victor Nikiforov, you will find those pictures and bring them to me!” Phichit declared dramatically.

“No, to me first!” Yuuri chimed in.

“And if you don’t, Yuuri is withholding sex until you hand them over!”

“Peach!” Yuuri almost shouted at the same time as Victor exclaimed “I beg your pardon?”

Chris just laughed. He reached for Phichit and pulled him a little closer towards himself, suddenly overcome by the wish to feel this lively bundle of energy that smelt of beer and garlic now and whose hair was a mess closer by his side. Phichit didn’t complain. If anything, he curled up closer by Chris’ side, everything about him suddenly bubblier, and easier, and lighter.

“So, Chris…” Yuuri was looking at the pizza cartons, pondering over which kind to have next. Finally he glanced up. “What are you doing on Friday night?”

Both Phichit and Victor’s heads shot up. A look passed between them, surprised, elated, daring to hope.

“I’ve got nothing special planned,” Chris replied quietly. “Why are you asking?”

“Because you’re invited to Bollywood night.”

For a while nobody said anything. They froze like someone had paused their movie. Then Chris replied that he would love to join them, and Phichit looked at Yuuri like he was about to cry, and Victor pulled Yuuri close and whispered something in his ear that made Yuuri blush and giggle.

They left their cars and called a taxi, all four of them huddled in Victor’s narrow hallway while Chris and Phichit put their coats and scarves on and they said goodbye, exchanging inebriated premonitions about how they would hate themselves at work in the morning but loved each other.

“Your place or mine?” Chris asked the shining mop of black hair pressed up close against his shoulder in the back of the taxi.

“Yours.” Phichit sounded sleepy and drunk, and happy.

Chuckling, Chris placed a kiss on top of his head and gave the taxi driver his address.

Victor looked pensive when Yuuri came back from the bathroom to join him on the couch.

“Is Phichit a top or a bottom?” he asked, and his arm wound around Yuuri’s middle like of its own accord when Yuuri sat down beside him, automatically moulding his body against Victor’s to complete that extension of each other that they had become.

“ _Phichit_ is a shimmering butterfly,” Yuuri said. “Sometimes he tops, sometimes he tops from the bottom, wherever the mood takes him in the heat of the moment.”

He cocked an eyebrow at the smug expression Victor’s face took on.

“Well. This is going to be interesting.” Victor chuckled before he took a last swig from the beer in his hand and placed the empty bottle on the coffee table in front of them.

“Why?”

“Because Chris never bottoms.”

Yuuri raised his other eyebrow. “Never?”

“No.” Victor shook his head. One of his hands began to dance over the small of Yuuri’s back, fingertips darting repeatedly under the hem of his sweater.

Yuuri leaned forward to reach for the now nearly empty pizza carton closest to him.

“Oh, he _will_.” He grinned smugly at Victor as he settled back into his touch and took a hearty bite out of the pizza slice.


	9. Or How My Heart Breaks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the late update! I've had one hell of a week with unexpected shit going on that stressed me immensely for three whole days. In any case, it's still Friday over here. And here are our boys.
> 
> This chapter is a little different. Some episodes are set in different places. I hope it's not too confusing. I also hope my very tired eyes didn't miss too many typos. 
> 
> Here we go. x

**9 - Or How My Heart Breaks**

Friday night found Phichit working the granite pestle in Yuuri’s kitchen with a vigour his friends could have sworn they hadn’t seen for a long, long time, if at all. Chris was supposed to arrive with Victor, and Phichit wasn’t sure what he longed for more - having him here on Bollywood night, or his friends stopping their teasing in Chris’ presence. Wondering if this was what it was like for them when he teased made him feel like his ears were actually glowing a bit, and he worked the mint and coriander leaves harder against the walls of the mortar.

He had all the chutneys and sauces finished by the time the doorbell rang.

“Why don’t _you_ get that, Peach?” Yuuri grinned at him from the armchair he was currently residing in. He had been petting Vicchan until now but let him go when the small poodle hopped off his lap and made an eager run for the door at the sound of the bell where he joined in Shi’s excited barking. Makka could already be heard from the other side of the door and Phichit reached for the handle and opened it. It felt like letting a little stampede pass, Victor and three excited dogs nearly falling over each other as they showered each other with love as if they didn’t see each other all the time. At last Phichit found himself alone with Chris in Yuuri’s hallway.

“Victor told me this is kind of an initiation gift.” Chris held up a potted coriander and a pack of papadums.

Phichit laughed. “A lifesaver, more likely.” He stepped closer and leaned up on his toes for a kiss.

“Hi.”

“Hello.” Both his hands still full, all Chris could do was smile. It extended to his eyes too and was enough to make Phichit go a little weak in the knees and a lot giddy.

“Hi Chris.” Guang Hong greeted cheerfully, and Phichit felt a surge of relief, easing a last bit of nerves he hadn’t known had been tangled inside him. He watched Chris closely, tried to pick up on his mood. But he seemed fine, saying Hello to Leo with the familiarity of someone who had known him for a long time through work. Of course his best friends were nothing but warm and welcoming. Phichit had known it, and yet, his nerves had been a little on edge. He watched Chris with Yuuri too, part of him still not quite able to believe that they should be getting on now. But Chris really was asking Yuuri’s opinion about a sushi place he was planning on checking out, and Victor really was looking at him from across the room with a huge, heart-shaped smile on his face. The buzzing of his phone with an incoming message stopped his train of thought, and he finally put down the coriander and papadums on the kitchen table to take his phone out of his pocket.

“You alright, Peach?” Leo asked when he came into the kitchen and caught Phichit frowning at the display.

Phichit nodded slowly. “Remember how I once mentioned that some big cardiology congress is happening in Munich and my father might be asked to speak there?”

“Yeah.” Leo opened the fridge and got out several bottles of Kingfisher beer.

“Make that ‘might be asked’ an ‘is going to.’” Phichit took a deep breath.

“And you think once he’s over here he’ll want to come and see you.” Leo grinned as he took the bottle opener and started opening all the bottles one after the other.

“Not only that. I think my mum will want to come with him, and once they’re on the same continent they’ll definitely want to see me.”

Phichit slipped his phone back in his pocket and took some of the bottles to help Leo carry them out.

“Are your parents travelling again?” Yuuri asked, who had caught the last bit of their conversation.

“I have a hunch.” Phichit handed out beer to Chris and Victor. “My family likes to accompany my father to congresses all around the world. They can get a bit notorious.”

“I think it’s fantastic.” Guang Hong chuckled.

“You still haven’t forgiven them for going to Japan without you.” Yuuri grinned. It turned into a full-bodied laugh when Phichit let out an almighty huff.

“They just up and went, and since they were there they descended upon your family!” He sounded agitated.

“They loved it though. Our mums still talk on WhatsApp.” Yuuri drank a sip from his beer bottle.

“In their equally broken English.” Phichit rolled his eyes. “I still cannot believe that they’ve met your family! _I_ haven’t met your family! No offense, Victor!” He threw him a quick apologetic look. “That was pre boyfriend times!”

“None taken.” Victor beamed at him good-humouredly and toasted with his beer from the armchair he had sat down in.

“So what are we watching?” Leo asked. He and Guang Hong were still standing with Chris in Yuuri’s living room like at a party, explaining the rules of Bollywood night to him, while Phichit and Yuuri had put down their bottles and were hurrying back and forth between the kitchen and the living room, getting the rest of the food ready on the coffee table.

Phichit looked up from the plate of papadums. “I thought _Kuch Kuch Hota Hai_ , that’s the best first Bollywood movie.”

“Chris knows that one,” Victor threw in.

“You do?” Phichit turned towards Chris with knitted eyebrows.

“Oh, is that the one _you_ kept watching when…” Chris fell silent, but Victor got him anyway and nodded. Chris looked back at Phichit. “Yeah, I know that one.”

“Okay.” Phichit’s face scrunched up in thought. “Plan B then. Also, seating arrangements?”

“We’re sorted,” Victor said as he pulled Yuuri into his lap in the armchair. Yuuri blushed a little, but didn’t complain.

“I thought Guang Hong and I could take _your_ usual spot on the carpet tonight,” Leo addressed Phichit. “So you can have the sofa corner.”

Phichit had to swallow hard as he stared back at Leo. “Really?” He sounded touched. Leo nodded and gave his upper arm a friendly nudge.

“This corner of Yuuri’s couch has a certain reputation,” Guang Hong explained to Chris as he brought him over.

Chris turned to his best friend. “Victor, _what_ did you do??”

“What? No! It’s the Happy Couple Corner.” Victor laughed.

“And it’s my turn!” Phichit announced excitedly. “It is fucking finally _my_ turn!”

He pushed Chris into the sofa corner and settled between his legs. Leo had just about time and presence of mind to snatch the beer bottle from Chris’ hand before Phichit reached for Chris’ arms to place them around his waist.

“Bring me food,” he said with a majestic hand gesture.

Leo threw a chapati at his head. “Sauce, Peach?”

Finally everyone was settled down, Leo on the carpet in front of the couch with Guang Hong snuggled back against him, where normally Phichit sat and wielded the remote control. Tonight it was in Leo’s hand, and he seemed to wait for Yuuri to get into his usual sofa corner, but Yuuri insisted he was fine where he was.

“Yuuri, you cannot possibly sit in Victor’s lap for two and a half hours!” Phichit remarked without looking up from the plate in his lap where he was currently breaking off a piece of crispy fried papadum and dipping it into mango chutney.

Victor coughed quietly into his hand, while Yuuri looked flustered and muttered, “You don’t know that, Peach.”

Phichit’s head whipped up, his eyes narrowed. “Oh my god! Yuuri! Or should I call you Cockwarmer Katsu-damn?”

“Victor, did you finally use that cock ring I gave you years ago?” Chris asked.

“Oh my _god_!” Yuuri yelled, while Victor spat out a mouthful of beer. “You are made for each other!”

Leo decided it was as good a moment to start the movie as they would get.

_[The film starts with a view of the Golden Temple in Amritsar and impressions of Amritsar city life. A train arrives, and a somewhat shy looking man wearing shirt and a grey creased pants but flashy sneakers arrives with his young bride. She is still in her wedding sari and refuses his hand to help her off the train and onto the platform. Her whole demeanour is very serious and subdued. The man brings her home and as he closes the door on the camera, a flashback starts. The man’s voice says that he saw her for the first time the day before and instantly fell in love with her.]_

“Well, it happens to the best of us,” Leo remarked drily.

“Except not all of us run out of work for _lunch break_ in the morning when it happens,” Phichit said pointedly, looking down to his right where Guang Hong was laughing quietly and settled back more comfortably in Leo’s arms.

_[The scene has changed to a colourful wedding celebration. The girl’s name is Taani, and the man is Surinder. He was invited to Taani’s wedding by her father, a professor, who introduces Surinder to her as his best former student. Taani has apparently heard of Surinder, she tells him “So you are the one he compared me to all through my school and college days, wanting me to aspire to get grades like Surinder, show respect like Surinder… he even wanted us to get married.” Taani jokes that her father loves Surinder more than he loves her. Surinder describes his falling in love with Taani as if he was seeing a woman for the very first time, a feeling of pain and happiness at the same time.]_

“Fathers.”

The comment was so low and barely audible that for a moment Phichit wasn’t sure if he had heard it at all. But Chris’ seemed to tense just the slightest bit behind him, and Phichit instinctively placed a calming hand on Chris’ leg while balancing his plate on his own legs.

Chris’ shifted slightly behind him. Then his chin came down on Phichit’s shoulder. Phichit smiled, eyes on the TV screen.

_[Suddenly news reach them that the groom and his whole party were killed in a road accident on the way to the wedding. Taani’s father suffers a fatal heart attack from the shock. On his death bed he asks Surinder to marry Taani, he wants to know his daughter is well looked after when he dies. Stunned and shocked by grief, Taani promises to fulfil her father’s dying wish. Taani’s father asks her to believe that God gave her Surinder. She and Surinder get married right away, and Surinder brings her home to Amritsar under the curious eyes of his neighbours. He clears his own bedroom for her and moves his things into a small storage room in the attic. The next morning he goes back to work, an office job at the local electricity company. Surinder is a quiet, shy, very humble man, inexperienced in love, rather boring looking with neatly combed hair, glasses, and a moustache. His colleagues regard him as a friend, they congratulate him on his marriage and talk him into giving a little reception for them at his house in the evening.]_

“Fuck, it’s like Crispino & Giacometti,” Victor joked. “Can’t get married without the whole company wanting a drink.”

In his lap, Yuuri started to laugh.

“We’re eloping, my darling. Just so you know.”

“Vikutoruu!”

Yuuri stopped laughing, but everyone else started instead.

_[Taani is home alone when she hears loud knocking on the front door. Outside in the street, Surinder’s best friend Bobby starts yelling, wanting Surinder to hear him from inside. Bobby is a dramatic and flamboyant character, and he is angry that he, his childhood friend, found out about Surinder’s marriage from the neighbours and not from him personally. Surinder comes driving up on his scooter and asks Bobby what he is doing. Bobby announces with a pout that “Bobby is dead!” Surinder replies, “As long as Suri is alive, how can Bobby die?”]_

“This is you.”

All heads turned towards Chris when he spoke unexpectedly. He was leaning back a little to look at Phichit.

“You would give Yuuri hell just like this.”

“Pretty much _exactly_ like this,” Leo said.

Guang Hong tilted his head back as far as he could to address Chris. “Well done. Ten minutes into your first movie and you’ve got Bollywood night down.”

Laughing, Chris indicated a bow.

Phichit huffed. “This could also be you and Victor. What with the childhood friends and the pouting.”

“I wouldn’t be seen dead in that outfit.” Victor grinned at Phichit from where he was leaning his cheek againstYuuri’s shoulder. “Whereas _you_...”

“He’s right,” Chris stated and placed a kiss into the back of Phichit’s neck like a peace offering.

Phichit huffed again, but when he looked up through the hair falling into his face, he could see Yuuri giving him a knowing smirk.

_[Surinder tells Bobby the whole story. Bobby is moved to tears by Surinder’s acceptance of the situation and his trust in God that he has given him Taani. Surinder’s colleagues arrive and he knocks on Taani’s door, asking her if she would come out and say Hello. When she gives no answer he says he understands and not to worry, he will explain to everyone that she is not feeling well and tired from the journey, and tells her to rest. As the party progresses, he keeps excusing her. Suddenly Taani appears, dressed up and serving refreshments, laughing and talking like the perfect hostess. Surinder watches her moving through the room, completely smitten by her beauty and her smile, and the fact that she is not letting him down.]_

“I know at least four people in this room who have done this!” Phichit piped up.

Leo snorted. “Like _you_ wouldn’t, Peach, if you were in his shoes.”

Guang Hong sighed. “I remember the first time we watched this, I wanted to cry when she showed up after all.”

Without looking, Phichit reached for the tissue box on the table and pulled some out to throw in Guang Hong’s lap.

_[After the party Taani seeks Surinder out in his room and asks to speak to him. She apologises to him for the bad start to their marriage, after all, she agreed to marry him out of her own free will. She promises to leave the old Taani behind and to become a new one, who is a good wife to him, if he can have a little patience with her. Then she tells him that she will most likely never love him because there is no love left inside of her. She hopes that he can accept that, not being loved, and if he can’t then she doesn’t want to be a burden. Surinder replies that he knows nothing of love or women, and that the fact that she did not let him down in front of his colleagues is love enough for him. This is all the love he knows and asks for. Taani says he is lucky never to have experienced love because there is nothing so painful in the world as love. After Taani has left, Surinder tells himself that now he knows why he has been feeling such a pain for the past two days, since the very moment he saw her.]_

“Bless,” Victor muttered, loud enough for everyone to hear.

“Oh Jesus Christ,” Chris muttered, just a tad above a whisper and only for Phichit’s ears.

Phichit slapped his thigh like reprimanding, but he needed to bite back a smile and quickly got one of the samosas from the serving plate on the table and took a bite, just in case.

_[The next morning Surinder finds his breakfast ready on the table. Taani is up and has made him not only breakfast but also lunch, which he takes to work packed in a tiffin in his favourite colour yellow. Surinder marvels over his lunchbox and leaves for work on his scooter with a besotted smile on his face.]_

“I _feel_ you, Suri, so much!” Victor exclaimed. He looked smitten.

Everyone started laughing, only Yuuri blushed.

_[One day when shopping, Taani spots a poster advertising a dance competition. That night at dinner she asks Suri if she can take part in it as dancing has always made her happy and it would be welcome distraction from her lonely days. Suri says nothing at first, but when Taani has finished cleaning up the kitchen and wants to go to bed, she sees that Suri has left the entrance fee on the table for her. She thanks him profusely and he smiles a timid smile and fends off her thanks as if it’s nothing.]_

“Look how happy he is!” Yuuri said.

“Bless you, Suri, you’re our hero!” Leo raised his beer and saluted the TV screen. “We all want to have a man like you.”

“You have a man like him,” Phichit reminded him. “Without the weird hair and the moustache!”

_[At night in Bobby’s deserted hair salon, Suri and Bobby are having a drink, sitting in the hairdresser’s chairs. Suri admits to Bobby that he is in love with Taani. Bobby is ecstatic. But Suri says that Taani does not love him, and perhaps never will. He says she wants to bury old Taani and become a new one, but he doesn’t want a new one. He fell in love with the old Taani, the one who laughs and dances. Suri says he wishes for a love story like in the movies Taani so loves to watch, where a dashing hero often named Raj sweeps the girl off her feet. Suri wishes for his own great love story, and he begs Bobby to change him, to turn him into the hero Taani call fall in love with. In tears, Bobby declares he has opened this salon solely for this day.]_

“Oh my god, they _are_ you and Yuuri!” Victor beamed at Phichit.

A smile passed between Yuuri and Phichit.

_[Bobby and Suri create Raj, a version of himself that Suri thinks will impress Taani, with highlighted and fashionably styled hair, different clothes, and shaved off moustache. Initially it’s only meant as a surprise for Taani, but when Suri sees her dance, he changes his mind. “Raj” is paired off with Taani as dancing partners. Afterwards Suri tells Bobby he is going to keep up the masquerade, because as Suri he makes her sad and reminds her of the losses in her life. But as “Raj”, he can see her dance and laugh and be happy. He feels that God is telling him to do this and live his own love story. When he goes home, he is dressed like Suri again, wearing a fake moustache. He tells Taani he will have to work overtime from now on, but since she has dance classes in the evening, she probably doesn’t mind. Later he hears Taani put on the music for the dance class as she practises. Suri secretly practices along with her on the rooftop terrace where she cannot see him.]_

Yuuri got up from Victor’s lap and moved over to the lower end of the sofa to sit in his usual corner.

“You alright there, Victor?”

Chris’ very smooth question was so heavy with ambiguity that it made Phichit look away from the screen and down to where Yuuri was just settling back in his corner after passing his ever faithful sofa cushion to Victor.

“Fine!” Victor smiled at Chris, but there was the faintest, barely noticeable strain to his voice and blush to his cheeks.

Phichit felt the grin stretch the corners of his mouth and then all the way into his cheeks.

“Yeah. That’s a very intense scene,” he smirked.

Victor’s blush turned full bloom, while Yuuri tried to kick at Phichit’s legs without hitting Chris’ by mistake. And on his shoulder, so close to his ear that warm breath tickled him and the sound sent pleasant shivers down Phichit’s spine, Chris was chuckling.

_[Taani is not very happy with “Raj” as her dance partner. He dresses and talks loud and exaggerated, calls her “Taani Partner”. When he tries to flirt with her, she brusquely puts a stop to it. His dancing, too, leaves something to wish for. Taani is frustrated she will never win the competition with him as her partner. One night after dance class it’s pouring down with heavy rain. “Raj” offers to drive her home on his motorbike. She refuses but finally gives in. Feeling that as “Raj” he can tell her all the things Suri would always be too shy to say, he tells her that it’s believed that a wish one makes in the first monsoon rain will come true. When Taani says her heart desires nothing, “Raj” says that he knows - she wishes to feel no pain in her heart anymore. He tells her to close her eyes and let the raindrops into her heart. Suri comes home after changing back in Bobby’s salon. He has caught a cold, driving around on the motorbike in the rain with Taani. He realises Taani has been standing by the open window, letting the raindrops into her heart like “Raj” told her.]_

A collective “Awwww!” went through the room when Taani brought him hot milk with curcuma to his room as a cold remedy.

_[Suri takes Taani out to the movies, and she falls asleep in the movie theatre because the film bores her. Suddenly she sees “Raj” on the screen, telling her he’s going to show her now how true love really works in Hindi films. An item song comes on, taking the viewer on a journey through several decades of Bollywood. For every sequence, the lead actor impersonates a different Bollywood legend, with an actress by his side who looks and dances like the heroine in that particular movie.]_

“Oh look, it’s Anjali!” Victor shot forward in his seat. “Ah, she’s still so beautiful!”

Yuuri reached over to him with one hand to caress the back of his head. “One day I’ll teach you the actress’ name,” he smiled.

“Yuuuuri! I don’t want to know. I want her to be Anjali forever!” Victor pouted.

A little while later it was Phichit’s turn to get excited.

“Now there is _my_ Rani!”

“ _Your_ Rani?” Chris asked, surprised.

Victor laughed. “You haven’t told him, Phichit?”

“Told me what?” Chris asked.

“Rani is the name of Chris’ cat,” Victor explained for Leo and Guang Hong.

“Really?” Guang Hong asked.

“And of Phichit’s favourite Bollywood actress,” Leo said, looking up at Chris.

“Really?” Chris asked.

“Really,” Phichit said and blew a kiss at the screen. “Look at her… just one part in one song, and she owns the whole damn place.”

“Just like your Rani,” Victor said to Chris. “She owns the whole damn place, too.”

Chris rolled his eyes, while Phichit laughed and gave Victor a thumbs up.

_[Getting drunk with Bobby in his salon, Suri, still in his “Raj” outfit, tells a mannequin wearing his Suri shirt and moustache and glasses, that Taani is falling for “Raj” and that he is going to steal her from Suri. Suddenly he is Suri again, and he starts to cry, thinking that Taani will fall in love with “Raj”, but never Suri.]_

Phichit heard a very faint snivelling sound by to his ear, close to where Chris’ chin was resting on his shoulder. He reached for the box of tissues nearest to him and grabbed a handful. As he passed them over his shoulder his eyes met’s Victor’s across the coffee table. Victor’s smile was so warm and understanding, Phichit felt like someone had draped a blanket over him.

_[Taani practices hard with “Raj”, and their dance routine lands them in the final round of the dance competition. They celebrate by a having a contest who can eat the most gol gappa, a street food snack made of fried bread balls filled with vegetables and spiced water. The loser has to grant the winner a wish. “Raj” wins the competition. When he comes home that night, Taani has made biryani for dinner to celebrate her getting into the final 10 of the competition. Suri is completely full from the gol gappa contest, but to keep up his charade, he has to pretend he is just Suri coming home hungry from the office. He eats the generous helpings of biryani Taani heaps onto his plate. Later he lies on his bed with a terrible stomach ache from eating too much and groans if this is the pain of love, too.]_

“Poor sod,” Leo said.

“Damn, I want biryani now.” Phichit said.

“I want that other stuff,” Yuuri added. “What they ate as a contest.”

Guang Hong turned his head towards him. “Ah, we tried that. It was weird. With the flavoured water inside?”

“Oh, yeah. We did.” Yuuri nodded. So did Phichit, Leo and Guang Hong.

Victor and Chris looked at each other and had to laugh.

_[“Raj’s” wish for winning the gol gappa contest was to spend a day with Taani. They end it on a place above the city from where they have a perfect view of the city light. Unnoticed by Taani, Suri calls one of his colleagues in the electricity company, and at his command all the lights in the city are turned off. When the lights come back on, they are distributed in such a way that they write I LOVE YOU into the darkened city. Taani is overwhelmed. “Raj” tells her he is in love with her. That he sees God in her. He doesn’t mind that she is not free for him. Taani tells “Raj” that she has taken this too far. Reminds him she’s married woman. Suri, in his disguise, realises that Taani has developed feelings for “Raj”. He still wants to keep up the disguise, even though Bobby tells him to tell her truth about the double role he’s playing. Suri says he has to stay Suri to win Taani’s love. That she will only understand his love if he is Suri.]_

“Now _that_ is romantic!” Phichit exclaimed.

Behind him, Chris remained noticeably quiet. But he felt him tighten his grip around his waist a little more.

_[Taani asks to see “Raj” one last time. She tells him that he woke up all the love inside her again that she thought she had lost. And demands an answer, since she is a married woman. “Raj” asks Taani to leave her husband and elope with him. Taani begs him to take her away. Later, Suri and Bobby talk on the roof. Bobby tells him he has to tell Taani the truth because this is getting ridiculous. She fell in love with him, because he is “Raj”. But Suri remains stubborn. He says Taani will not be happy with him. She needs to understand Suri’s love first before he can reveal himself.]_

“He is as stubborn as they come!” Yuuri huffed.

Victor raised his head from where he was resting it against Yuuri’s arm on the side of the couch and gave him such an indignant look as if he couldn’t believe that Yuuri of all people complained someone being stubborn.

“Is it always so complicated?”

Chris made sure to keep his voice very low as he leaned down and murmured to Leo, but Phichit had heard him nonetheless and he turned backwards as far as he could to get a look at him.

“Don’t break my heart over not getting Bollywood movies, Christophe! After all we’ve been through!”

Everyone else around them started to laugh.

_[Before the dance competition, Suri and Taani pray at the Golden Temple. Suri tells her he always comes here for a sign from God when he has to make a difficult decision in his life. Taani asks for a sign, too. When she opens her eyes again, Suri is coming towards her.]_

“I love how she looks at him there!” Phichit said.

“It’s so romantic!” Yuuri added.

Another look passed between Chris and Victor. They smiled.

_[The night of the dance competition, Taani and “Raj” have a talk just before their performance. She tells him she cannot come with him, she cannot leave her husband. “Raj’s” love made her weak for a short moment but she cannot forget that Suri was the one who took her hand when she was alone all in the world. She sees God in him. She is not going to leave Surinder.]_

The whole room erupted in loud cheers.

_[It’s their turn to dance, as the last couple in the competition. But Taani remains alone on the stage. “Raj” is not coming. Just as she accepts that they will not be dancing, laughter rings from the audience. Suri has come on stage. In his shirt and creased pants, his sneakers, with his glasses and moustache and neatly combed hair. While Taani is still staring at him in disbelief, Suri takes up the starting pose of their routine. They dance their choreography, interspersed with flashbacks of the moments Taani shared with “Raj”, who was, as she now knows, Suri all the time. When they have finished and the curtain falls, Taani calls Suri a liar. She tells him he lied to her about not knowing what love is. He turned her tears into laughter, her sorrow into happiness. She gave him not one drop of love, and yet he drowned her in it. When they are announced the winners of the dance competition, Taani corrects the announcer - they are not Taani & Raj, they are Mr & Mrs Surinder Sahni.]_

Chris had gone very still with his chin on Phichit’s shoulder. As the end credits rolled and pictures of Suri and Taani’s honeymoon in Japan were shown next to them, Phichit land back against him.

“Are you alright?” he asked quietly.

“Perfect. I really had fun.” Chris smiled.

“Good.” Yuuri had obviously been watching them from the other end of the sofa. “This is a regular feature.”

Later, Yuuri and Victor were seeing them off by the door.

“They really are wholesome,” Chris murmured against Victor’s ear when he hugged him.

“I told you,” Victor murmured back and patted him on the back.

They stood in the doorway, waiting until Phichit’s door closed behind the both of them.

Phichit had just closed his door when he found himself pulled into a tight embrace.

“What was that for?” He asked when Chris let him go.

“Just like that.” Chris rubbed his temple.

“You’re cute, Christophe.” Phichit smiled. “I like it.”

He grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the bedroom.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Phichit spent the train ride to Milan sitting opposite Chris with some papers between them on the table. He had been nervous about going on a business trip with him of all people, but he found it was more relaxing than he’d anticipated. The moment they started talking about work everything else fell away and they actually had some very good ideas jotted down by the time they arrived in Milan and made their way down from the platform and out of the central station.

“Taxi?” Chris asked, somewhat hopefully.

“Good one, Christophe.” Phichit grinned. “Victor warned me you would try this and told me what to say.”

“‘We’re crossing _three_ _streets_.’” Chris rolled his eyes.

Laughing, Phichit grabbed the handle of his suitcase and led the way he had meticulously looked up online.

“I really hope I’m not booked into the same room Yuuri had,” Phichit said as they entered the marble hotel lobby. “I wouldn’t be able to sleep in that bed knowing what he and Victor did in it.”

“You say that like you’re not planning on sneaking out at night and knocking on _my_ door,” Chris replied drily.

For a moment they stopped and just looked at each other. They had had to ask Yuuri to book separate rooms to keep up pretences. Nobody really wanted to have to explain to Seung-gil why they were sharing a suite on a business trip. They might have just posted it on the company intranet in that case.

Phichit straightened automatically to his full height when he saw the deadly attractive Italian approaching them, arms wide open and heading straight for Chris.

“You must be Paolo!” Phichit intercepted him with his outstretched hand, leaving him no chance but to shake it if he didn’t want to be completely rude in front of his colleagues and the other guests in the lobby. “Phichit Chulanont, hello. I trust our rooms are ready? Mr Katsuki said you assured him that they were.”

“But of course.” The smile gave nothing away, even if there was any irritation. “If you would like to follow me.”

He nodded at Chris and led the way to reception, talking English in his melodious Italian accent.

“What?” Phichit asked when they were going up in the elevator a surprisingly short time later after the quickest and most uncomplicated check-in Phichit had ever experienced in his entire life.

“Nothing.” Chris shook his head and chuckled, ignoring Phichit’s indignant, self-sufficient glare.

They headed out almost immediately, Phichit eager to take some first photos of the city he had never visited before, and Chris needing to meet Michele in the office to go over some plans and figures. Before they got out of the taxi, Phichit leaned over for a quick kiss, hitting the corner of Chris’ mouth.

“That’ll have to do until later tonight.” He winked before he jumped out of the car. They were invited to Sara and Michele’s parents for dinner, Chris’ godfather insisting on seeing him when he was in town. The invitation extended to Phichit of course, as they knew him as one of Sara’s closest coworkers. They would not get any time alone until late in the evening, after they were back from dinner.

In the back of the taxi, Chris still felt the brush of Phichit’s lips against his mouth when Phichit had already taken off towards the Duomo with a cheerful wave. He sighed. The taxi driver coughed, reminding Chris of his presence and the fare he still owed him.

An hour later, Chris and Michele were standing side by side by the window looking out at the Duomo, their shoulders almost touching as they held small espresso cups and saucers in their hands.

“Is that Phichit?”

Michele hunched his shoulders and leaned forward, looking down at the square that was swarming with people as usual. Tourists were queuing along the snaking metal barrier waiting their turn to get inside the Duomo, while locals and more tourists and souvenir vendors bustled about the square, many of them taking pictures of the Duomo or selfies in front of it. Like the slim, black-haired person currently crouching down as low on his knees as he possibly could in an attempt to capture as much of the cathedral as possible.

Chris hummed low confirmation. Michele was, of course, more familiar with Phichit than with so many other employees in their head offices, as Phichit was one of the people who worked so close together with Sara.

He drank his espresso in one go and replaced the cup on the saucer. It gave off a weak clatter.

“I’m dating him, by the way.”

Chris didn’t look at Michele. Both their gazes were still drawn to the person walking backwards with his camera poised now. He bumped into a group of girls and they saw him apologise, saw the big disarming smile on his face from up here.

“I figured as much.” Michele spoke just as calmly. “You two disappeared together quite a long while in the club, that night after your press conference. And even before. Subtly stalking someone on the dance floor has never been one of your strongest points, Giacometti.”

“Shut up, Crispino.” Chris smiled.

“How official are you?” Michele turned to face him at last.

“Not very. Only close friends so far. Phichit’s family.”

Michele laughed and reached up to pat him on the back. “Good luck trying to hide it from Mamma!”

The ringing of Chris’ phone interrupted them and he went to fetch it from where he had placed it one Michele’s desk.

“Your father.” He frowned at Michele after a glance at the display, then he picked up the call. “Massimo. Are you checking up on me to make sure I won’t miss dinner with you tonight? Like I could!”

The affectionate smile he addressed his godfather with was wiped off his face a moment later.

“Chris…” Massimo sounded dead serious. “Can you come right away? It’s your father…”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The man’s footsteps left a firm patter on the linoleum floor as he hurried towards the ICU. The sliding doors parted for him, and the moment they closed behind him the bustle of normal hospital life fell away and only the quiet of intensive care remained. The faint beeping of monitors and the wheeze of a patient breathing with the help of a respirator. Doctors and nurses went quietly about their tasks, trying to remain calm and not further upset the very few worried family members that were allowed by their loved one’s side.

He turned into a room on his right, took in the situation with one look. The pale man in the bed, the terrified woman hovering in the corner. The reassuring smile he gave her was sincere and well-practiced.

The moment he reached for a tablet in a holder at the foot of the patient’s bed, the young doctor who had called him incessantly on his pager stepped up by his side to brief him.

“Male, Caucasian. Fifty-eight years old. Was here on holiday when he suddenly collapsed over lunch, clutching his chest and claiming he cannot breathe.” The woman leaned in. “I’m very sorry we had to call you, but they were causing a bit of a commotion, demanding the senior physician and nobody else.”

A trace of resignation washed over his young colleague’s face and caused an irritated frown to appear on his forehead. He distinctly disliked it when patients tried to brush off young and especially female doctors and wanted someone with experience instead. How were the young ones ever to gain experience if they were not allowed to work with patients?

“Did he stop you from taking the necessary tests?”

She snorted a little. “Of course not. I saw it through. He was in what looked like a serious condition, so it’s not like he had a choice, I was the only doctor available at that moment.”

“Symptoms?”

“Chest pain, shortness of breath, dizziness, irregular heartbeat.”

“Heart attack?”

“It seems so. We stabilised him and did an ECG, echo, chest X-ray, the blood test results should come back from the lab any moment, and I’ve ordered a coronary angiography.”

“Good.” He nodded his approval. The door opened and another young doctor came in.

“The MRI is ready, can I take him there?”

“I’ll come with you.” The young doctor leaned in close over the data on the tablet again and lowered her voice. “ _Phor_ … is this…?”

“I think it is.” He gave her upper arm a short pat, then watched her hurry after the other doctor and the bed for a moment before he squared his shoulders and took a step towards the woman in the corner, who was waiting for some answers.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The Crispinos’ villa was a thirty-minute drive away from the city of Milan, situated in a very quiet and exclusive area in between lots of green.

Sitting opposite his godfather’s soothing presence in their cosy library, a second glass of cognac in front of him, Chris tried to cling to the good things. The calming ticking of the grandfather clock in one corner. The rows and rows of books in heavy wooden shelves along every wall. The comfortable worn leather couch he sat on that still smelt the same, of carefree summers spent here with his three best friends. The feeling of Phichit caressing one of his hands between the two of his. The warmth of Phichit sitting close in the back of the car Mickey had organised for them from one moment to the next. The utter cuteness of Phichit’s jaw nearly dropping as he looked out the car window when Chris explained to him that the park they were currently driving though was already part of the property and belonged to Sara and Mickey’s parents.

He tried to cling to all this because he didn’t know what else to cling to.

“He wasn’t always like this.” Massimo’s voice was loud in the silence of the room. “Your father.”

Chris reached for his glass. Suddenly he felt like he couldn’t keep up this conversation without a drink. Or ten.

“He was funny. So witty. Caring and social and ambitious, the best friend anyone could ever ask for.”

“Don’t,” Chris said quietly and shifted in his seat. “Please, Massimo. Don’t talk about my father like some guy I would have liked to be friends with.”

“You will listen to me now, boy.” Massimo leaned forward in his seat.

“ _He_ should be telling you this story, not me. But now…” He paused, pain twisting his face. “I don’t know if he will still be able to.”

Chris felt his breath catch in his throat, nausea clambering around his insides.

“So I am going to tell you this story. The story of how your father became such a bitter man.”

Chris looked at him. Inhaled and exhaled audibly. He knew Massimo wasn’t waiting for his consent, but he still gave it, a barely noticeable nod.

Massimo leaned back in his armchair once more, twisting his own glass of cognac in his hands. “When we were young, we liked to have fun with our friends when we were your age. We went out just like you, dancing, drinking, smoking. Your parents were both in love with other people. They were both in relationships, and one night your mother had a fight with her boyfriend and got drunk. Your father wanted to be a good friend and did not leave her side.”

Chris had downed the contents of his glass and put it back on the table. Now he groaned quietly into his hands. He had an awful premonition.

“They got drunk together and had a one-night-stand, and she got pregnant. Their parents insisted they got married.”

“I wasn’t aware that my birth happened two hundred years ago,” Chris said saltily.

“Those were still different times.” Massimo sighed. “Your grandparents were angry with your father. Your grandfather especially, I’d never seen him like that. He was so disappointed. And your mother’s parents, they were excited. They were not too fond of her boyfriend, but your father, he was a much better catch in their opinion.”

Chris remembered those visits, the times when he had had to go to his other grandparents’ house or they came to see them. It had always felt awkward. They had no idea how to talk to children, they had no idea what gifts to give.

“Your parents… they withered away without love. They cared for each other as good friends, but being forced to spend their lives together turned them bitter, towards each other and the circumstances.”

“And me.” Chris huffed.

“And you. It wasn’t fair that you got caught in the middle. Your grandfather never forgave himself. He didn’t think they would take it out on you.”

“Grandpère loved me.” Chris said it with an almost desperate edge to his voice.

“He did. He loved you very much. He never stopped feeling guilty for getting you caught in the middle of this. He hadn’t reckoned that your father would take out on you how angry he felt with his own parents.”

“Why does he hate my being gay?” Chris asked, eyebrows raised like a challenge.

“I’m not even sure he really did, initially…”

“Oh come on, Massimo, this is crap, and you know it.” Chris let out an extremely exasperated sigh.

“He hated that your grandfather let you be. He hated that your grandfather forced _him_ into a life he never wanted but let you be. So he did to you what his father did to him.”

“I love you, and I love how you’re standing up for him after everything he’s said and done. But it’s not my fault,” Chris insisted. “I did nothing wrong. I didn’t choose this. I chose none of this!”

“I know,” Massimo agreed sadly. “I told him so many times. But he became so blind. Like someone took his heart away from him and he wasn’t able to feel any love anymore.”

Chris shook his head. “Why didn’t they just get a divorce and start being happy? Why did they let this go on for so long and make everyone unhappy!”

Chris looked at him. He knew Massimo was weak for romantic drama and entanglement. He was Italian, after all, he lived for the big emotions. And he knew the friendship between him and his father was firm and relentless, much like his own with Victor. No matter what happened throughout their lives and in the company they built together, Massimo was always there for his father. Just like Victor had taken so much crap from himself over the years, gotten angry and wanted to kick his ass but eventually always forgave him because he, Chris, was his idiot, the closest thing to a brother he had. Chris knew his father was the same to Massimo.

Before he could answer, Massimo’s phone beeped with an incoming message. It made both of them hold their breath. Chris slid to the edge of the couch, his heart doing ridiculous things in his chest as he watched Massimo reach for his phone and call up the message.

Massimo looked up. “Not a heart attack. He’ll be fine, soon.”

He started to cry with relief.

And Chris wished he had it in him to cry with relief too. But he felt nothing but sadness, as numb and cold as marble that the strongest man would find it impossible to squeeze even one teardrop from.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Phichit had been spending the afternoon wandering the grounds and taking pictures. Part of him was dying to know what Sara’s father and Chris were talking about but he didn’t want to intrude on their privacy. And he wouldn’t have been able to do so without outing himself as Chris’ boyfriend. 

When he came back to the house he ran straight into Sara’s mother.

“Ah. Phichit.” Catarina stepped towards him with her arms wide open like he was a long lost son and had been gone for months. Even if they hadn’t been introduced at the Christmas party, Phichit would have recognised Sara’s mother anywhere. She looked like an older carbon copy of her daughter, the same violet eyes, her hair still raven black except for a few silver streaks here and there that only added to her elegance. She hugged him like a mother, of course remembering meeting him a few months’ prior. Even before that, she had sometimes talked to him on the phone when Sara had been too busy at work and motioned for Phichit to answer the other line and take a message.

She gave him a pair of slippers and led him to the kitchen, claiming he probably needed some coffee.

“It’s getting late,” she said when she handed him a cup of cappuccino with a thick layer of milky froth. “I suggested to Chris that you stay over instead of going back into the city. Besides, he has been drinking, I don’t want him to drive, and the driver is already off duty.”

“I can drive!” Phichit offered but she shook her head.

“ _Macché!_ ” She made a dismissive gesture with her hand. “You’ll stay the night. Tomorrow morning after breakfast, the driver can take you back.”

“But…” Phichit struggled for words for a moment. “We didn’t bring anything to stay overnight.”

“We have all the necessary things young men need overnight, don’t worry.”

I doubt that, Phichit thought, panicking for an instant, but keeping his mouth shut.

“I already got one of the guest rooms ready for you.” She clapped her hands as if to say this was her last word.

“Okay. Thank you so much.” Phichit, who had been raised by a woman very much like this one, knew when it was time to stop arguing because he would never win.

He drank his cappuccino in silence, then placed the empty cup on the table. Stepping closer towards the stove, he took a whiff of something delicious bubbling in a pot. Tomatoes. And meat. His mouth watered and he remembered Yura, who hadn’t been able to shut up about Sara’s mother’s cooking for days.

“I’m making lasagne. My secret family recipe.” She winked, watching him and clearly finding his blissed out facial expression one that she usually came across in this very situation.

“Can I help you make dinner at least?” Phichit asked, because he felt the tension of the past couple of hours catch up with him and was craving something to do that would help him focus and relax.

She took a long look at him. Then she said, “You look like someone who is used to helping his mamma in the kitchen.” 

“Yes, that’s me.” Phichit nodded. He could hear his mother’s voice in his head, chattering and lovingly scolding as she chased him around the kitchen from one task to the next. Nothing quite felt like a mother’s love when it came to food, and suddenly he missed her acutely, and yet, here and now in this kitchen and in this company, missing his mother didn’t sting.

Catarina was still looked him up and down with her head cocked sideways.

“Guests don’t work in my house,” she decided. “But you look a little agitated, so I will make an exception for you if you want. First we get you comfortable in your room. If you still want to help after freshening up you can come back here. But if you stay put or want to explore the house until dinner, you are very welcome to do so, too.”

Phichit nodded. He could live with that.

He followed her out into the hall and up the stairs onto a long landing that finally took a turn into the other wing of the house. Again, he remembered Yura, bitching about how their house was so huge he kept getting lost and had to call Emil or Mila to come get him.

They reached another landing and Catarina opened one of the shining wooden doors leading away from the carpeted hall.

“These are our guest rooms.” She smiled warmly and looked uncannily like Sara doing so. “Make yourself at home. And please come have an aperitivo with Massimo and Chris in the living room.”

Phichit nodded. He knew it was pointless to refuse, so he didn’t even try.

“Holy shit…” he breathed when he found himself alone. He placed his camera and coat in the armchair near the door and started exploring. The room looked much more like a modern hotel room than he had expected a guest room in such an old villa to look. There was a queen-sized bed with lots of extra cushions, a painting on the wall above the bed. The lamp on the bedside table looked vintage, a wide glass shade painted with pastel flowers giving off a warm light, yet he knew once he was lying in bed it would be bright enough for reading. A doorway led into a tiled and all modern ensuite that once again gave him the feeling that he was in a hotel, especially when he saw the brand new assortment of toiletries placed neatly on a shelf above the sink.

There was another door, in the wall opposite the bed. Phichit opened it and whistled through his teeth. The glass door led out onto a balcony. A light came on via motion detector when he stepped outside, and all sentiments of modern hotel room vanished when he felt himself catapulted straight into something out of Romeo & Juliet. Vines grew on the wall of the house in his back, and the balustrade was composed of intricately carved elegant pillars that looked barely withered. Someone was obviously taking very good care of them.

Leaning on the top of the balustrade, he looked right down at the pool and gardens, and the park stretching behind them. Somewhere in the distance he could see what he thought were the peacefully lapping waves rippling the surface of a lake. The other wing of the house was to his left and he saw illuminated windows. Not all of them had curtains, and he could see Catarina walking around an already laid dining table, adjusting the position of glasses and laughing about something that was said by someone Phichit couldn’t see.

His phone started to ring and he wrestled it from his pocket.

“Hi dad,” Phichit said after a glance at the display. “You got my message.”

He had texted his dad earlier when he was walking the grounds, shook up from the news about Chris’ father. Suddenly he had felt the need to talk to his own father, the want to know he was fine.

“I did. Are you okay?”

“Yes. I’m in Milan, remember Sara sent me to take pictures and videos for our new image brochure. We’re at her parents’ house now actually and staying for dinner.” Phichit went inside to put his coat on because it was getting a little chilly outside, but then he stepped out on the balcony again and went to the very front, leaning his arms on the balustrade again. He had vaguely let on about Chris’ father’s condition, the little he knew. But he didn’t want to get his father’s expert opinion, it would have felt pretentious to him. They talked for a little while, just checking up on each other, and Phichit drew his usual comfort from his father’s voice and the small anecdotes about his family. When he noticed his father was repressing a yawn, Phichit very gently told him to go to bed.

They were almost done with their goodbyes when his father said it.

“Phichit?”

“Yeah?”

“Give your man a hug from me.”

“Sure, but… where’s that coming from?”

“Let’s just say, I think he didn’t get enough of those in his life.”

Phichit thought about this for a moment. Then his eyes widened, and he knew his voice verged on hysterics when he all but shouted into his phone.

“Oh my god, you saw him! _You_ were the cardiologist who treated his father!” His palm connected with his forehead. “Of course! They will have demanded to see the best there is.”

“Phichit, you know I’m not allowed to tell you,” his father said patiently. “Doctor patient confidentiality.”

“Okay. Okay.” Phichit tried to stop his hysterical pacing by leaning on the stone handrail of the balcony.

“Just give him a hug. I think he needs it.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“Good evening.”

The senior physician sat down on a chair he had pulled up to the hospital bed. The man in the bed looked at him somewhat exasperated. He should have been sleeping, resting, taking his condition more seriously. Perhaps he was, the physician reasoned, after all, he hadn’t stopped keeping his staff on his toes until the director of the department himself came to speak to him.

“So.” The physician looked at the tablet in his hands that gave him a detailed report of the patient’s condition. “We did a coronary angiography and we were unable to detect any blockages in your arteries. If this was a heart attack they would be there.”

“What does that mean?”

“That we can dismiss a heart attack.”

The patient made a low humming sound and nodded his approval. “Then what is it?”

“Neither your medical history nor your test results give reason to believe that you have been suffering an undetected heart condition. There is one thing that your symptoms speak for though…”

“What is it?” the man asked again, more harshly.

The physician took a deep breath. “Have you heard of Broken Heart Syndrome?”

He laughed. He actually laughed in his face. “Sounds like esoteric bullshit to me.”

The physician sighed. Very patiently, he held the man’s gaze. “Have you received any upsetting news today? Suffered severe emotional stress?”

The man’s face turned sideways to exchange a look with his wife.

“I’m going to get some coffee.” She got up from the chair in the corner where she had been quietly looking on. Clutching her handbag tight in front of her chest, she left the room without a sound.

The patient waited until she was truly and well gone before he faced the physician again.

“This is just between you and me, isn’t it?”

“Of course.” He nodded.

“You see…” Suddenly tension seemed to fall away from him, leaving behind a frail and exhausted man. “It’s the woman I love.”

“Your wife?” The physician knitted his eyebrows together. She seemed fine. She couldn’t be the cause. Could she?

“Not my wife. There is someone else. Someone I have loved all my life and was not allowed to marry. And this morning… we found out that her husband passed away. She is a free woman now.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with these facts now.”

Chris was sitting on the bed in his usual guest room, facing Phichit. He had told him the whole story after dinner, pulling him into his own room right away. And Phichit had listened. He held his hand between his again and caressed the back of it, slow, calming movements that felt like balm to Chris.

“Knowing that won’t bring me back my childhood. Had I known then, I would still have wanted to be loved.”

“Of course you would have.” Phichit looked sad. Like he was about to cry the tears Chris felt he couldn’t.

“I know Massimo meant well but none of this is making anything better for me. Knowing why they never loved me doesn’t change the fact that I so wanted them to and just never… did.”

“Let _me_ love you!” Phichit said. “Let me _love_ you.”

Chris swallowed hard. He brought his free hand up to cup Phichit’s face. Breached the small distance between them to lean in for a kiss. And when their lips touched their hands flew apart and grabbed shoulders instead, clung like drowning people seeking support.

Phichit tore himself away with a desperate sigh, struggling for breath.

“I’ll be right back!” He jumped up from the bed, glowing cheeks and tousled hair. “Don’t go anywhere.”

He returned moments later, grabbing for the hem of his shirt already and pulling it over his head the moment he had closed the door. Chris had moved up on the bed, sitting closer towards the head now. His eyes widened for a moment when he saw the lube and condoms Phichit placed on the bedside table.

“Do I _want_ to know why you have this on you, here and now?” He smirked.

Phichit looked flustered. “I bought it earlier in between taking pictures, while you were with Mickey. I thought we would be going back to the hotel. If you’d rather…” He tread from one foot to the other.

“You’re amazing.” Chris reached for him with one hand. “Come here.”

It was sometime when there lips were already swollen from kisses and their clothes strewn carelessly on the floor around the bed that Phichit paused where he was kneeling above him and looked down with a strange twinkle in his eyes.

“When you said you’d let me call the shots - just how much control were you going to let me take?”

Chris looked back at him for a long moment. He knew. He knew what Phichit was saying, Phichit could see it in his eyes if he had ever seen anything clearly. It made his heart do cartwheels until it had broken skin from the inside and was jumping out.

“As much as you want,” Chris said and his voice was laced with so much of what Phichit had never thought to hear from him. “As a matter of fact I think I… I’m as ready for someone else taking control as I’ll ever be.”

Phichit leaned down to place the sweetest kiss he had ever given on Chris’ lips. He didn’t say anything. Not with words. But he still spoke with his mouth, and spoke to every single inch that was Chris.

He took his damn sweet time preparing him. Months of secretly crushing lent a patience to his hands and mouth that surprised himself. His fingers teased and taunted, while he moaned around Chris’ cock in his mouth, sampling musky taste and silky texture, every vein and every sound a new sensation he set out to discover and become familiar with and make his for keeps. He wanted to draw his earlier words, “Let me love you!”, onto his skin, carve them into his body and soul and his very being.

“Fuck!”

He heard the word somewhere above him and had to pause, let the quivering hardness slip from his mouth with a faint plop, and for a moment he smiled against the inside of a toned thigh. Something like regret washed over him at the thought that this might be something Chris had been missing out on, from the surprised sounds he made. Phichit wanted to make this good, wanted to make this the best he’d ever had, so he never wanted to be with someone else. He stretched and stroked until breathlessness became panting and curses became pleads. And he could have done this for hours, Phichit knew, pleasuring him with his fingers and letting his tongue work around his cock while he sucked him so deep in his mouth that he felt him hit the back of his throat and his jaw started to ache. But he wanted more. He wanted everything.

He still felt a faint pain of loss when he withdrew his mouth and fingers. And not just he, Chris felt it, too, Phichit saw it in every contortion of his face when he slid up on his body and settled between his thighs. He rocked his erection into Chris’ leaking cock, drawing a moan from both of them.

“D’you think you can wrap your goddamn long legs around me?” It was meant to be a joke and came out a needy question, and then turned into a breathless “Oh shit…” when he felt the firm grip around his legs, hot skin on hot skin, one foot running cheekily up and down the back of his legs.

“Like this?” Chris asked cheekily, with a lightheartedness that made Phichit as glad as few things ever had.

He paused for a moment to grab a condom from the bedside table. Chris took it from between his trembling fingers and ripped the foil open, and Phichit muttered something like thanks, and then cursed when Chris let his legs fall away from him almost like he was putting himself on display.

“Oh god…oh my fucking god…” Phichit wished he didn’t sound quite so hysterical when he felt Chris roll the condom down over his throbbing cock like an invitation.

“I thought that was _your_ part tonight.”

Chris’ drily murmured comment broke some of the tension Phichit felt. He couldn’t help but laugh.

And he felt touched to the core by the fact that Chris became so pliant and trusting under his touch, that he let him grab his legs and place them over his shoulders. He felt the shudder run through him and heard the echo of a gasp when he pressed a kiss against the inside of one knee as he moved his leg. It sounded as overwhelmed as if nobody had ever done this to him before, and perhaps nobody had, and the thought made Phichit feel special, and high, and ambitious.

He felt his teeth dig into his bottom lip and positioned himself. All the encouragement and want he needed was there in Chris’ eyes. If Phichit had ever thought for one moment about the giddy triumph he might be feeling right now, dragging his cock along the tight heat that was Christophe Giacometti clenching with helpless need around the unfamiliar sensations, his mind was completely void of them now. Too many L words were struggling for space inside it, lust and life and longing, and the other one.

He wanted to look at him but it was too hard, it felt too good, it sounded too sexy, the quiet, breathless sounds of pleasure he drew from Chris and that peppered over him like all his deep, velvety sounds did, finding all of Phichit’s vulnerable places and slipping right underneath.

At last he forced his eyes open. Phichit looked down at Chris, but the smile died in the corners of his mouth, was knocked off by something more feral that tugged and squeezed on his heart. He would have loved to kiss him but the position didn’t allow for it. It was a choice between thrusting deeper or sliding out and leaning up to kiss him. Though with every thrust he folded Chris more in half, felt the strain more in his arms where he braced them left and right of Chris’ shoulders on the bed, with every thrust he hit deeper, and felt the need to be able to find Chris’ mouth with his own. Maybe next time. This time, he was saving all his kisses for afterwards. Something snapped inside Phichit and he became all moves, eager and straining to give as much as he possibly could and take as much as he possibly could at the same time. He wanted to throw over the whole of Chris’ world and move into every nook and cranny, make himself at home and never go.

It was Chris’ own hand that found a way between their bodies and brought himself off with a couple of well-timed, fast strokes. Phichit’s fingers dug into the sheets and then Chris’ hands cupped his butt cheeks and pulled him deeper into him, and it made Phichit come with a whimper and a few more quick moves like his body refused to believe it was already over.

Sighing, Phichit pulled out and discarded the condom as discreetly as he possibly could, trying not to think about how classy and elegant the tissue box on the bedside table looked and what its owners would think about the fact that the tissues were grabbed for this very purpose. Chris winced when he lowered his legs down on the bed and stretched them, the unfamiliar position making them complain, but not him.

Phichit wiped their bodies down as quickly and neatly as he could in a hurry, but he didn’t want to lose any more time and kisses. Sliding up a little on Chris’ body he came to lie snug against his chest at last and his mouth claimed the rest of his sanity, tongue sliding between readily parted lips for all the lazy kisses they had collected like dreams and promises. When the last remains of breath were taken and passed between the two of them Phichit tore himself away, heaving with the gulps for air he filled his lungs with, and then he let his face drop down against Chris’ throat and filled his lungs with the scent of his sweat and perfume and hot arousal.

“Bloody hell.”

Phichit raised his head from the curve of Chris’ neck where was burying his face against his beating pulse. He had to laugh when he saw the smile on his face, the shimmer of sweat glistening on his forehead, and a tinge of a blush that he had never expected to see on this man’s face, leave alone to put there himself.

“You look like you’ve seen the light or something.”

Chris’ gaze moved to him from the ceiling he was so blissfully staring up at.

“ _You_ are the light, so technically I have.” It came with a smile both warm and complacent.

“Smooth, Christophe,” Phichit said as nonchalantly as he possibly could and tried not to show what havoc the words caused to his feelings. “Very smooth.”

He reached for the blanket they had pushed aside and that had slipped almost entirely off the bed, tugging until he could it pull over the both of them.

“Are you okay?” Phichit asked when he reached for the bedside table to turn off the light.

Chris chuckled quietly in the dark. “Never better.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Victor’s phone rang in the middle of the night. Insistently buzzing across the bedside table, it sang and danced as if it wanted to move closer towards him if only that could wake him up. One of his hands came out from under the blanket and felt around the wooden top until he grabbed the phone and scrambled into something resembling a half-sitting position. He glanced at the display before he picked up.

“Chris. Please tell me you’re standing in an emergency room somewhere with your head under your arm. Do you know what time it is?”

He listened for a moment. Then he switched on the light. “What?”

Victor sat up in bed and frowned.

“Okay. See you on Saturday. Say Hi to Phichit.”

He put his phone back on the bedside table but didn’t go back to sleep. Instead he just sat leaning back against the headboard, staring into the faintly illuminated bedroom without seeing anything.

“Victor?”

Yuuri’s face emerged from under the blanket, an unruly mop of black hair making way for a concerned squint into the glow of the bedside lamp. “What happened? Is Chris okay?”

Victor turned his face towards him. He looked slightly dazed.

“I’ve won a bet.”

“What!” It was enough to make Yuuri shoot up in bed and switch on the light on his own side before he faced Victor. Victor looked shell-shocked, his face rigid with disbelief.

“Many years ago, apparently I bet Chris that one day he would bottom. I’d completely forgotten about it but Chris had not, so… he just called me to tell me I’ve won that bet and he owes me a bar’s worth of gin&tonic.”

He shook his head very slowly. “I can’t believe Chris bottomed!”

“I can’t believe _you’ve_ won a bet!” Yuuri stared at him wide-eyed.

“Yeah. That too.” Victor’s face finally relaxed into a little laugh.

“That changes _everything_ , of course.” Yuuri crossed his arms in front of his chest. His eyes had a decisive sparkle in them when he looked at Victor. “About the man I love.”

“Really now?” Victor leaned over. “I bet I can make you come at least twice before we go back to sleep.”

“You’re on, Nikiforov.” Yuuri pulled him in for a kiss.

They both reached for their bedside tables at the same time to switch off the lights.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

He looked up from his computer screen when there was a knock on his office door.

“Your patient, sir,” said the nurse who poked her head in. He nodded and pushed his chair away from his desk as the man walked in.

“Good morning. Please take a seat.” The physician indicated the chair across from his desk and got up from his own to walk around the desk and be able to sit closer to his patient, pulling in the simple chair that was standing by the end of the examination table so that he could face him on a more personal level.

“I feel fine. I would like to go home. But I was told I need to check in with you first. I was hoping you could write me a reference letter that I’m clear to travel in case the airline won’t let me on board.”

The man looked healthier. But that could have been the medication. Or plain stubbornness.

“We’ve done everything we can from our side. Do you feel fit enough to travel?”

The man nodded. Firmly. “I do. I just want to go home.”

The tilt of the head towards the picture frame on his office wall was so subtle, the physician almost missed it.

“Are they all yours?”

“Yes. They’re my children. All four of them.”

“Good god.” A frown pulled bushy eyebrows momentarily together. “Four. I can barely handle the disappointment in just one.”

A small pause ensued, until the physician cleared his throat.

“Your test results are all okay. You are clear to fly, but please keep the medication we’ve prescribed you on you at all times in case you show symptoms again.”

He stood up. His patient followed suit, glad to be dismissed.

“Please seek out a cardiologist as soon as you arrive home for a follow-up check and further monitoring. If you are thinking about drastic changes in your life, there’s no guarantee you won’t experience similar symptoms again,” he explained as they made their short way over to the door.

“The nurse outside will provide you with all your reports and findings and invoices, and the images on CD for you to present to your doctors at home.”

He opened the door and held out his hand.

“Thank you for everything.” The handshake was firm, much firmer than his patients normally shook his hand a couple of days after being admitted to the emergency room.

Dr. Chulanont nodded. “All the best for you, Mr Giacometti.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

On their last day in Milan they had a lie-in and got breakfast delivered to Chris’ room. Phichit tried very hard not to smirk when he opened the door while Chris was in the shower and found himself face to face with Paolo. Whose features wavered momentarily as he tried to replace the bright, expectant smile on his face for a normal, customer-friendly expression.

“Hi.” Phichit beamed at him.

“Good morning.” Paolo smiled back, all polite business now. “Your breakfast.”

“Perfect.” Phichit opened the door wider to let him wheel the cart into the suit and towards the dining table. He noticed the glance Paolo threw towards the bedroom and fought harder to keep in his smile. Rumpled sheets were clearly visible in one corner of the bed one could see from the living room, cascading down to the floor. The sound of the shower running in the bathroom was unmistakable. Paolo knew that right at this moment Chris was in that shower, just as he knew what Phichit’s part had been in those crumpled sheets.

“Um… hang on…” Phichit hurried over to the low sideboard where Chris had left the tip. As he leaned down the robe he had just loosely tied and that was too big on him anyway fell open in front and slipped lightly, revealing his collarbone and part of his chest and one shoulder.

He went back over to Paolo and handed him the note. “Thank you very much.” He smiled sweetly.

In the bathroom, the shower was turned off.

“Thank _you_.” Paolo accepted the tip with a light bow and retreated towards the door. “Enjoy your breakfast.”

He pulled the door to the suite shut behind him just as Chris stepped out of the bathroom.

“Was that Paolo?” he asked. Since Phichit had stolen his hotel bathrobe, he had slung one towel around his waist and was using a second one to rub his hair down.

“Yep,” Phichit replied nonchalantly and made for the table where their breakfast was laid out.

Watching him for a moment, Chris finally laughed. “And I suppose _my_ robe slid down your shoulder to show off the impressive hickey on your collarbone I gave you last night quite by accident?”

“Yep.” Phichit didn’t even try to his glee as he slumped down in one of the chairs and reached for a croissant.

“Oh my god!” Phichit exclaimed when they came up the escalator and he saw the piazza in front of his eyes. “This is Yuuri’s place!”

He looked around the square. He had seen Yuuri’s pictures of course and heard him raving a million times. He remembered the very first message, Yuuri saying how this was what heaven looked like to him. Phichit smiled. Suddenly he missed Yuuri almost painfully. Even on this cold winter day the place was humming with people, sitting on the low concrete wall that wound around the water, chatting, drinking coffee. The skyscrapers around were reflected in the glass fronts and the pool in the middle, and a very brave dog was currently battling one of the fountains. The shops and cafés were open, and people could be seen bustling around inside.

“You’ll need to take a picture of me sitting there, for Yuuri.” Phichit pointed at the solar tree right in the middle of the square.

“Of course.” Chris smiled. “After my appointment.”

“And will you finally tell me what that appointment is?” Phichit swung around to face him.

Chris only chuckled, and it drove Phichit slightly mad, but he followed when he turned right and walked past a restaurant and towards one of the high-class shops around the square.

“Fuck, no!” Phichit almost yelled he saw the shop window. “Are you serious???”

He hurried past Chris and marvelled at the shining red car to the right of the display inside. After marvelling over it for a little while, his focus shifted towards their reflection in the window. So different from the way it had looked one snowy night in Switzerland. They stood closer together now, Phichit’s hair touching on Chris’ shoulder. They looked happier now, more open, more attuned to one another. And in between them, their arms were wound tight where they held each other by the hand.

“You’re buying one.” Phichit looked sideways and up into Chris’ face. He wanted to bounce up on his toes and plant a kiss on Chris’ lips because he could barely contain his excitement. “You’re fucking _buying_ one!”

“It’s about time, with everything else I do for the environment, don’t you think?” The corners of Chris’ mouth were twitching with a beginning smile.

“What about your Jaguar?”

The question hung in the winter air for a moment, as cold as all the unpleasant memories that were connected with that car, and the bet that had nearly cost their best friends their happiness.

At long last, Chris smiled, almost a little timidly. “I’m selling it,” he stated simply. “I don’t want it anymore.”

Phichit smiled back at him, unable to contain his happiness. It was the safer option, when what he actually felt more acutely was the wish to jump Chris right here, right now. He squeezed tighter where Chris was still holding his hand.

“Please tell me it’s the red one!” Phichit said when Chris pushed the glass door open and he followed him inside the Tesla store.

Phichit got his picture taken under the solar tree and ate ice-cream from GROM in Yuuri’s honour. He sent Yuuri a ton of pictures, and then took a ton for himself of the Bosco Verticale, claiming this was one landmark that was still missing in his collection.

They took their time strolling along Corso Como, stopping at nearly every shop to try on clothes and emerge with another shopping bag. The shopping bags were slung over opposite arms because they were holding hands the whole time, walking as close together as was possible. When they finally arrived at Porta Garibaldi lunchtime had long passed, and Phichit was so hungry his stomach actually growled so loudly that Chris heard it and started laughing.

He promised help and pulled Phichit along across the street and towards a big building. The front was comprised of twenty same-sized squares and sported the word EATALY in large white letters in the second row from the top. Inside, it looked like a department store.

A department store solely for food, Phichit realised when they walked in the door. 

“Oh god, has Yuuri seen this?!” Phichit laughed. “I bet he hasn’t, he would have mentioned getting lost for a whole day in a food market such as this!”

He was about to check out the display closest to him but found himself stopped by the pull of Chris’ hand in his, tugging him gently towards a set of escalators.

“Eat first, shop later,” Chris said, and Phichit was only too happy to comply.

They found a table by the window in one of the in-store restaurants and soon had plates of steaming pasta and a basket of fresh, crusty ciabatta in front of them. They talked way into the afternoon, nursing glasses of red wine, until they felt energised enough to pick up their shopping bags and shop more, perusing the vast variety of slow food products from all over Italy. Phichit picked out so many gifts for Yuuri, Leo and Guang Hong that he wondered for a moment whether he would need an extra small suitcase to bring everything home.

When Chris steered him towards one particular shelf, Phichit frowned a little. Then he looked at the glasses in front of him. _Then_ he started to laugh. Memories crashed above him, of one evening in Chris’ kitchen when he had unearthed a glass just like this from one of his cabinets stuffed full of fancy food. The evening he had wanted to make something sweet for dessert and ended up establishing one of their very first couple traditions.

“Excuse me.” Chris was waving at a staff member close by. The young woman came over, greeting them with a cheerful smile. Her accent was thick when she asked in English what she could do for them. 

“We’ll take the whole lot of these.” Chris pointed at the shelf.

Her immaculate eyebrows shot up. “All these?” she asked for reassurance. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.” Chris gave her his most devastating smile.

Phichit felt almost a little sorry for the woman and her poor legs that were probably feeling rather unsteady now. And then he stepped aside, and watched, a giddy smile of disbelief playing around his lips, how the young woman got another colleague over to help her load every single glass of peaches in syrup they had in stock into cardboard boxes and take everything to the check-out with the rest of their purchases, where they were rang up, filled in paper shopping bags, and loaded into the boot of a taxi the store had been so kind as to call for them.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

They missed Bollywood night because they came back from Milan late Friday evening, but on Saturday they found themselves back in Yuuri’s apartment for an evening Phichit had planned for a long time. He hadn’t known that Chris would be joining them, but it was the cherry on top for him, watching a whole long playlist of Eurovision songs he had compiled meticulously over several nights because he couldn’t possibly wait for the contest to take place next time and he also wanted to have a Eurovision party with only the good songs.

When they walked into Yuuri’s apartment Phichit started to laugh when he saw the addition to the living room furniture. An extra small sofa had been bought while they were in Milan, the comfortable two-seater completing a cozy ensemble that would have nobody in their group sitting on the floor anymore.

“Yuuri, you didn’t have to!” Phichit said, feeling a little embarrassed when he pulled Yuuri into a hug to say Hello. They stood side by side for a moment, looking at the new seating arrangements around the coffee table that promised many more cosy movie and TV nights.

“Oh, I did. I was getting fed up with this wide space between the couch and the kitchen area anyway.”

Yuuri grinned.

“So, why are we having a Best of Eurovision night?” Chris asked. “Eurovision is in May.”

Snickering from three different sources answered him. Even Victor looked way too smug for Chris’ taste.

“You’re dating Phichit Chulanont.” Leo gave Chris a friendly pat between the shoulder blades. “Only one Eurovision party a year is not enough for him.”

Chris swung around in Phichit’s direction. “I hope you’re wearing your feather boa at least.”

Phichit cocked his head in thought. “I might.”

Leo and Guang Hong took the new sofa, while Phichit found himself in the Happy Couple Corner once more. Yuuri and Victor seemed fine with their seating arrangement they had unconsciously already established on Victor’s first Bollywood night, Victor’s armchair pushed all the way against Yuuri’s sofa corner so that they could touch each other and lean close together.

‘Euphoria’ came on and four heads turned in their direction, smiles blooming on every face including theirs when they moved in closer, heads stuck together and arms entwined.

Some time later, Chris felt his heart contract when he heard a familiar tune. He remembered this song, from TV nights in black and white, snuck out of bed into his grandparents’ living room where they were watching. He could almost feel his grandfather’s hand again, tousling his hair affectionately. It wasn’t buried very deep on his favourites playlist either. He had always loved this song.

Suddenly he felt like someone was watching him as he subconsciously mouthed the words in French, and sure enough, when he looked up he met the intense stare from Victor’s ice blue eyes from the other end of the sofa. And Chris knew. Like him, Victor understood every word of the French lyrics, and not just that, Victor was able to look all the way into his heart and see how he felt them deep inside there, pounding and pulsing because this was who he was, and this was how he felt.

He saw Victor moving his lips, mouthing the lyrics too, and when they realised they were both doing it they smiled at each other. Younger again for a moment, friends as close as brothers who knew the secrets about each other than not even the men currently in their arms would possibly ever know.

“Oh crap!” Phichit yelled and jumped so unexpectedly in his seat that Chris groaned under the impact of the elbows knocked back into his chest and taut denim-clad butt bouncing back into his groin.

“What?” Heads jerked around towards him, and Yuuri’s face especially had instantly taken on a worried frown.

“What happened, Peach?”

“My brother’s uni break and my little sister’s school holidays coincide with that time my father is coming over here for that congress.” Phichit was still staring at the phone in his hands but slowly raised his head to look around in the faces of his friends now. “You _know_ what that means.”

The excitement was plain in the grins and sparkling eyes all around the room, and in the hectic red blotches on Phichit’s face.

“Yes!” Guang Hong voiced what everyone was thinking. “It means we’re going to meet the Chulanonts!”


	10. With All The Force Of A Great Typhoon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another stressful week lies behind me and has me fretting that I overlooked too many typos. 
> 
> I hope you like this whirlwind of a chapter. :)

**10 - With All The Force Of A Great Typhoon**

Chris was lying on his back in his bed. He hadn’t drawn the curtains, nor had he let down the blinds. All the possible options available to him like in most things in life, and yet he had chosen none. There had been a time in his life when he had dismissed the choices on purpose. Another spoilt brat indulgence, having everything and picking nothing. Now, he had a different reason.

The sheets rustled very quietly when he moved, an audible crackle where his hair moved over the pillows when he turned his head almost loud in the still of the night. The smile that transformed the corners of his mouth was soundless, and overwhelming. Trouble sleeping was no stranger to him. Problems in the company would keep him up until he found a solution. Other questions, truths that haunted him, facts that blinded him by day could shed their shadows and were dismantled in the darkness. The sheer power of self-loathing and despairing of himself could keep him up at night. And his demons. They hadn’t been back to bed him for a while but he was always weary. They had done this before. Left him feeling safe only to find him again when he least expected it, and find him weak and open and at his most vulnerable.

Now, he had a different reason.

With his eyes adjusted to the dark, he could make out the shape beside him. Angles and dents, the faint dip in the middle of the blanket burrito. Dark hair pouring over the pillow and the pretty face. They had gone to bed hours ago, and Chris still felt it in his bones, the welcome weariness of passion, and a burn not physical but much more profound. Of course, he thought. Phichit was fire and light, and he had scattered them into his life and under his skin, small flickers of warmth and softness.

Beside him in the moonlight, Phichit stirred.

“What are you doing?”

The voice was not even a murmur, getting lost somewhere along the evolvement from a whisper to something more.

“Thinking.”

Chris shifted his body, turned into his side and pulled his own blanket higher over his waist until it came up to his chest. He was reminded of the evening Phichit found he had his own blanket now in Chris’ bed. The glistening shimmer of happiness in his eyes was something Chris wanted to cherish for a long, long time. He, who had showered boyfriends and lovers in expensive dinners and presents and holidays, felt slain by the simple fact that he could make someone even happier with such a small, domestic gesture. Chris had always been reminded of their first night together, in the hotel in Switzerland. Phichit burying himself completely in the blanket and telling him how he got cold in winter over here. And Phichit was a blanket thief unless he had his own. The nights were still cold, even though spring already reared its head and tickled the nose with some cheeky rays of sunlight in the daytime now. But here, in the middle of the night, there was just darkness, and still Chris felt in the light. There was chill, and still he felt warm.

An arm snaked out from under the blanket Phichit had rolled himself in.

“About what?”

His fingers found Chris’ cheeks.

Chris shook his head, just a faint movement under the heat of Phichit’s caress. He couldn’t say.

“Nervous about meeting my family?”

And there it was. Just like that Phichit had found the source of his fretting that he’d thought he’d hidden so well, like he always found everything no matter how deep Chris buried it. Phichit saw it in the darkness and unearthed it with the softest touch of his fingertips. One day Chris would need to ask him how he did that.

“I just want to make a good impression.” Chris grimaced. His confession sounded lame, even to himself. “God knows that what they’ve seen and heard about me so far probably wasn’t what they expected their oldest son to present at home as boyfriend material.”

“Maybe not.” Phichit’s fingers intensified their touch on Chris’ cheek as if they felt the sobering effect his words had on him. “But then I don’t think they expect anything other than someone who makes me laugh, and in whose company I feel happy. Someone handsome who can make me go weak in the knees.”

Chris snorted quietly. Phichit’s eyes were like glowing embers, something shining even here and now.

“Funny how you can say that when I’m the one lying down feeling very weak from just your words right now.”

Phichit grinned at Chris’ words. It looked just a little demonic in the moonlight. Next thing Chris knew, his blanket was yanked away from him, but he felt cold for just the shortest instant because a moment later he was covered once more, by a lithe, springy body heated up from sleep and having been rolled inside a blanket for hours.

“Phichit, what are you doing?” His mouth asked but his hips were bucking slightly, accommodating the weighton top of him like a welcome.

“I’d think this is quite obvious, Christophe.” Phichit leaned down to kiss him, brief and soft like a promise. “In just a couple of hours from now my family is going to be in town, and we very probably won’t have so much alone time.”

“That so?” He returned the kiss, and smirked when he rubbed his stubbly chin against Phichit’s smooth face and felt more than he heard a breath catching in Phichit’s throat.

He could get used to this feeling, Chris thought, perhaps he already had. Phichit kneeling above him with his thighs clamping so tight around his sides as if he wanted to hold him with everything he had and nothing was ever enough. Hands began to roam over his chest all the way up to his shoulders. Down his arms. Skipped over his hips and started all over again, only this time he felt he was already shivering.

Chris closed his eyes and dug his head back in the pillow. It was maddening when Phichit, this bouncy, vibrant ball of life, went slow. Everything seemed to slow down and intensify when Phichit trailed his hands over his chest life he had all the time in the world to wait for every single one of the sounds that left Chris’ mouth. His voice, already deep, dropped even lower, Chris knew, like he knew he could not help it and like he knew Phichit loved it, and loved to take him there.

Lips connected with his chest, dry and warm and soundless from sleep. The tip of a tongue curled around one nipple without warning and Chris hissed, and Phichit chuckled. Chris felt his cock stirring, filling up, and he knew it had only partly to do with the way Phichit moved on top of him and made sure to rock his firm butt back into Chris’ groin. Phichit knew he lacked height, and his hips and butt lacked the delectable curves that Yuuri had for example. He made up for it with a determination that surpassed anything physical. A fire in his eyes that extended to his limbs and could fell Chris like a tree. And frequently did so.

Chris reached for the nightstand with one hand. He didn’t want Phichit to stop moving, didn’t want him to have to interrupt the slow grinding into his body, or the way his back curved so sensuously in the moonlight when he threw back his head and enjoyed with closed eyes. Chris grabbed his own cock first, coated it generously with lube to make it easier on the both of them, Phichit’s restless writhing, and the way he groped at Chris’ chest and rubbed perky nipples between his fingers, and the way he tried to rub himself against up against hard, throbbing flesh. Chris coated his fingers too and dropped the tube on the bed beside him before he followed the call of Phichit’s body.

Phichit liked this, Chris knew it well now. He liked the way Chris played around his rim with lubed up fingertips, teased him where he clenched with need and want and impatience. He liked feeling the stretch and burn of first one and then two digits, balancing on his thighs and setting the pace of the movements as he rode Chris’ fingers to his own maximum pleasure and fired his body up for more.

Phichit was impatient. He voiced it too, a small whimper at the feel of thick head of cock splitting his cheeks with eagerness, and he just about waited until he could be sure the condom was in place until he rose higher on his knees once more and then sank down and let out the quietest groan of content when he speared himself on Chris’ cock. Chris moaned, low in his throat, feeling himself so taken.

Breathing accelerated and became loud in the silent room, skin meeting skin whenever Phichit slammed down. Chris’ let his hands roam over Phichit’s thighs until they found their way around his waist and held him steady, fingers digging deep into skin that began to feel damp with sweat within minutes. He let go with one hand, skimming fingertips across a tight abdomen until they felt the leaking tip of Phichit’s cock and he closed his hand around him, circling the head with his thumb so intensely that it made Phichit cry out and move faster, chase the feeling that was building up higher in and between the both of them. Chris was quiet where Phichit was vocal, a quiet grunt against Phichit’s voice that slid a little higher into happy hysterics when he came in warm spurts over Chris’ hand and chest while he clenched desperately around him, milking him dry of every last bit he had to give.

Chris laughed quietly. Phichit didn’t stand upon ceremonies, he just fell forward and slumped down on top of him like he owned the place. And Chris brought both arms around him, because he did. Own the place.

Chris’ alarm clock started to fill the room with its shrill beeps just between the fifth and sixth breath Phichit drew right from between Chris’ sweat-glistening pecs. One of the hands stilled its movements over Phichit’s back to reach for the phone on the night stand and hit the snooze button, before it returned to enwrap and warm up Phichit once again.

“Do we have to get up?” Phichit almost-whined against Chris’ chest.

“We do. You have a photoshoot with the milk suppliers before your family arrives.”

Phichit sighed. “Of course, Mr Giacometti.”

The sound of a tight little slap on one of Phichit’s firm buttocks resounded through the room. “You don’t have to do it today,” Chris reminded him. “Go some other time, just wait for your family.”

“Nah.” Phichit took a deep, content breath. “I’m giddy enough as it is, I’m not very good at waiting for something. Keeping myself busy will make the time go by faster. I’ll drive out there, take a couple of pictures, and come back well in time for them.”

Chris made a noncommittal sound. He knew it was pointless trying to argue with Phichit, so he didn’t even try, just hugged him tight. The alarm went off again, he hit the snooze button once more.

“Are you still nervous?” Phichit asked into the silence of their lazy early morning cuddles.

“Will it help if I say no so you won’t worry about it?”

“Will it help if I say _you_ have nothing to be nervous about?”

“I don’t know. Your means of taking my mind off of things are very delightful though.”

“There’s more where that came from, just wait until we are in the shower.”

They laughed, softly, and lay still and quiet some more, feeling, breathing, until the alarm went off a third time and they finally struggled out of bed.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

A couple of hours later, Chris was sitting at the small meeting table in one corner of his office with Yuuri, going through his upcoming appointments and trying to fit in some more. After the crisis it was more important than ever to follow up on any established as well as prospective new cooperations. Chris and Victor made it a point to reinforce ties with those partners who had stuck by them as much as they tried to land new deals. It was the last appointment of the day. Phichit’s family was expected in the afternoon, and each of them had an interest in getting home and changed before meeting them, albeit for different reasons.

“I should really go to Turkey again soon,” Chris mused as they bent over the laptop with this calendar on the screen. “See how they’re getting on with the rebuilding. I don’t want them to think it doesn’t matter to us anymore.”

Yuuri nodded. He leafed ahead, checking how booked Chris was in the upcoming weeks. In his pocket, his phone began to vibrate with an incoming call. He rejected it blindly and apologised to Chris before he placed the phone on the chair beside him and focused on the task at hand.

The vibrating stopped. Then started again. They tried to ignore it, Yuuri growing noticeably more flustered and irritated, also embarrassed because it wasn’t like him to receive private calls during working hours, and in front of his boss, too.

“I’m sorry, I’ll switch it off.” He reached for his phone, then frowned when he saw who was calling.

“It’s Phichit,” he told Chris. Chris instantly sat up straighter.

“I’m sorry.” Yuuri shook his head. “It must be urgent, he wouldn’t call me at work on my private phone if it wasn’t.”

“By all means, answer it,” Chris said with a nod.

Yuuri nodded as well and finally answered the call. “Peach? What’s going on?”

“I fucking hate cows.” Phichit sounded utterly exhausted.

Yuuri was still frowning when Phichit went on, more passionately this time.

“I fucking hate all fucking cows, and if I ever see another one in my life, I’ll—”

“Phichit,” Yuuri interrupted. “What happened?”

Phichit took such a deep breath, Yuuri could actually see his chest rise before his mind’s eye. “I took the pictures, and meanwhile, one of those… _monsters_ rubbed up against my car where it was parked. Broke off a mirror and destroyed both rear lights. It even left a dent in the driver’s door, fuck knows what it was doing! I cannot drive like this! And do you know what else is happening?”

“Tell me?”

“My family will be there soon. As in, _soon_! They rented a car, and set out an hour early, because they said they are so excited to see me and meet everyone. I won’t be home in time! What am I going to do??” His voice peaked with panic on the last couple of words.

“First of all, calm down!” Yuuri sounded patient, but his brow was already crinkled in thought.

“How can I stay calm, Yuuri??? Those bloody animals…” Phichit started a stream of colourful descriptions, none of them in any way flattering to the cows who gave the main ingredients of more than half of their best-selling products.

“One of the cow’s damaged Phichit’s car, he cannot drive back. And his family left an hour early and will be here sooner than expected,” Yuuri explained very quietly to Chris, holding the phone away from his face momentarily, knowing that Phichit was on a rambling roll.

“Is he freaking out?” Chris asked just as quietly, looking alert, although a small smile played around his lips at the same time.

Yuuri nodded. He brought the phone back to his hear and heard Phichit read out the latest message from his brother, announcing their expected time of arrival.

“Okay,” Yuuri said. “They’re supposed to meet you at home, right?”

“Yes!” Phichit sounded panicked.

“Good. Tell them to come to my place instead. I’ll take care of them until you get home.”

“How!” Phichit snapped. “How will I get home quickly, Yuuri? I cannot drive that car.”

“You call a taxi and get Seung-gil to reimburse you,” Yuuri said patiently.

Yuuri’s eyes flickered to Chris, surprised to see him get up from his seat.

“I’m going to pick him up,” Chris told Yuuri and headed over to his desk to grab his car keys and phone. “Can you shut down everything here, and we’ll meet you at your place?”

Yuuri was still nodding when Chris was already heading out with a small wave, taking his coat from the small wardrobe by the door so abruptly in passing that the hanger swung back and forth a couple of times and bumped into the wooden back wall.

“Peach. Stay where you are, Chris is coming to get you.”

Yuuri shifted the phone to his other hand so he could already close windows on the laptop and shut it down.

“He is?” Phichit sounded taken aback. It made Yuuri smile.

“Yes. He just headed out. And as for your family - we’ll be fine. They’ll need to check in at their hotel first, by the time they get to our place you will be almost there, too.”

“They shouldn’t have set out earlier. Yuuri, can you _believe_ this family?”

“Actually I can, Peach, they’re yours.” Yuuri grinned.

“Very funny, Katsuki!”

Yuuri’s voice softened with his whole expression and posture. “They can’t wait to see you.”

“I know. I can’t wait to see them, too.” Phichit heaved a sigh that seemed to come from the depths of his soul. For a moment they were quiet, only the faint voices of someone talking and some low mooing could be heard in the background. At last, Phichit spoke again.

“Yuuri! They will all descend upon our apartments!”

“I know.” Yuuri’s grin grew wide and excited. “I can’t wait!”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

They didn’t arrive too long after Phichit’s family. When they got upstairs everyone was still standing and curiously looking around, the first getting to know each other in person after countless video calls, that in-between time that comes after Hello and introductions, and before settling down with a cup of tea. The moment they stepped through the door Phichit slid his coat from his shoulders and kicked off his shoes. Chris took his coat from him and watched him storm off to greet his family, hands already folded in front of his chest for the typical _wai_. The noise picked up instantly, laughter and “Sawasdee” followed by different suffixes flying back and forth.

Chris closed the door to Yuuri’s apartment behind him. He slipped off his shoes and took off his own coat, found a space for both of theirs on one of the pegs on the wardrobe. His stomach felt a little queasy with nerves, so he was not exactly unhappy about nobody paying him any attention. It gave him a moment to breathe. To calm down. Steel himself. And watch. And what a scene to watch.

He knew Phichit hadn’t been home in at least a year. It showed. His mother didn’t seem to want to let him go. Her hands stayed on his shoulders as she looked him up and down, smoothed the fringe from his face and cupped his face with both hands for a moment before she engulfed him in a hug again. His grandmother gave him a similar treatment, although she also pinched his cheeks, which made Phichit try to move his face out of the way and everyone laugh who witnessed the scene. Phichit’s sisters hugged him fiercely. It showed that one was older and the other younger, Phichit teased his younger sister just like his older sister had teased him a moment before, saying quiet things that caused embarrassed giggles, hands tousling hair.

Chris barely noticed how his head took just the slightest dip to the right and one corner of his mouth strained upwards. The closest he had come to experiencing brotherhood throughout his life had been Mickey and Victor. He could see glimpses of this in the way Phichit and his brother approached each other with banter and the biggest cheeky smiles. Chris didn’t need to understand the words to know that they were teasing affectionately. Their hug looked funny, Phichit’s brother almost a head taller, and Phichit rising on his toes while his brother leaned down and definitely called him ‘Shorty’.

There was only one person left. Chris felt something shift inside him, a small earthquake. A tug on the heartstrings, firm and painful and yearning.

“Dad.”

They faced each other for a moment, and Chris saw Phichit’s face. Saw both their faces. Saw the love that crossed their features, the smile of unbridled affection, the joy of seeing each other face to face, the trust of so many heart-to-hearts. Their arms came up before they took one step towards each other and into a hug that was so tight that Chris could see the shirt on Phichit’s back tightening where his father’s hand fisted in the cotton, and the veins protruding in his father’s forearm. Chris could feel it just from watching, the utter void inside his life where all those fatherly hugs had never happened.

Then Phichit swung around.

It felt like a spotlight had turned on him. Chris took a slow breath and pushed himself away from Yuuri’s hallway, out into the buzzing and heaving living room full of people.

Phichit hurried over to him, stood by his side, one hand on his elbow as he nudged him the slightest bit closer while lending support at the same time.

“This is Christophe.”

“Finally!” Phichit’s older sister pushed her way past her relatives and rushed over to shake his hand.

“I’m Hathai. You probably know me under the name Ballbreaker, I know he lovingly refers to me like that.” She motioned her head in Phichit’s direction without taking her eyes off of Chris’.

“I would never!” Phichit protested.

Chris had to bite back a smile. He did. All the time. As a matter of fact, Chris hadn’t even known until this very moment what her name actually was because Phichit referred to her as ‘my older sister’ or Ballbreaker all the time. 

“Pleasure to meet you.” Chris smiled. Her handshake was firmer than many a man’s he had ever met.

“Oh, the pleasure is all mine.”

There was definitely something flirty in her words. Chris noticed. He also noticed that when Hathai turned away from him she gave Phichit two thumbs up and mouthed an excited “Oh my god!” of approval. And then he felt Phichit leave his side just as his mother and grandmother descended upon him. There was no handshaking, they pulled him into firm hugs straight away like a long lost son, talking excitedly all over each other.

“So handsome!”

“And so kind too, going all the way out into the countryside to collect Phichit!”

“Your pictures don’t do you justice!”

“We are so happy to finally meet you, Phichit talks about you all the time!”

Phichit’s younger sister muttered a barely audible “Hi”, which made Phichit and Hathai nudge one another in the ribs and their jaw almost drop with surprise. Chris had heard about her shyness and felt touched to the core because she made such an effort for him. Phichit’s brother met him eye to eye, he was that tall. And really very stunningly good-looking, Chris thought, while at the same time oozing a humble quiet.

“I’m Ananda. Hello.” He shook Chris’ hand, and his other came up for a small, brotherly pat on Chris’ upper arm. Just like Victor or Mickey would do.

Chris couldn’t have pinpointed the feeling surging through him when he found himself face to face with Phichit’s father. Much as with Phichit, he had patiently waited his turn, let everyone else pounce on him and pack a year’s worth of not seeing each other in hugs until it was finally his turn.

Chris held out his hand for a handshake.

It came, firm and no-nonsense. Names and gazes went back and forth, a second hand came down over Chris’ where his was held on to. And then he was pulled into a hug by that hand and almost crushed by the arms he had still watched holding Phichit moments ago. He faintly registered that everyone was watching them and having reactions but Chris, over his father’s shoulder, only had eyes for Phichit. Phichit’s wide smile and the giddy hovering, just as if the happiness spread from his face through his whole body. It made something plummet and untangle inside Chris, fall apart and come back together, only that parts of him felt different now. It was the most unsuitable moment but Chris was reminded of the night they had made out in the back office of the club and Phichit had told him about a Bollywood song and how he felt more beautiful saying his name. Chris could relate to that now. Here and now, he was almost painfully aware that he felt more beautiful when he was subjected to Phichit’s eyes and his smile. When Phichit’s father let go of him, not without the same pat on Chris’ upper arm, only that this one felt more fatherly, Chris felt like much more than just into a hug, he had been drawn into a family. It was a new feeling, and it was beautiful, and scary.

Yuuri’s apartment was not small, and yet it felt full, voices and laughter ringing loud. The incessant chatter of three Thai women, sometimes amongst each other in Thai, sometimes in English towards everyone else. Victor, charming and open as always, was instantly pulled into making tea with Yuuri and Phichit’s mother and grandmother because Yuuri insisted, and they buzzed around them, claiming the tea they had had in Japan in Yuuri’s parents’ house had been one of the best parts about their trip there. Chris stuck to Phichit, making smalltalk with Leo, Hathai and Phichit and their father. Chris felt the tug of Phichit’s arm winding around his own and the soft pressure of Phichit leaning the side of his face against him. Guang Hong was on the sofa with Phichit’s younger siblings and the two dogs, Shi leaving white hair all over Ananda’s pants, while Vicchan was making Phichit’s little sister laugh by almost dancing in her lap and licking her hands and face.

“I thought we could take everyone out for dinner,” Phichit’s father said.

“No, really, you don’t have to!” Chris and Leo exclaimed almost at the same time.

“Oh, we’ve already booked a table.” Hathai grinned.

Chris and Leo both looked at Phichit. Phichit shrugged, but his smile was beatific.

They set out in their respective cars eventually and met by the restaurant, one of the city’s most renown onesand listed in every travel guide for the high-quality regional food. A large table had been booked for them along one wall, and they found their seats, Phichit’s family and friends mixing where the new bonds had already been formed and conversations wanted to be continued.

“So. Hathai.” Chris turned towards Phichit’s older sister whom he found on his right. “Why Ballbreaker?”

“Isn’t it obvious? She never keeps a boyfriend for long,” Phichit cut in from his other side. He looked flushed, though Chris couldn’t have said whether it was just the excitement of having his family around, or nerves of wanting to have Chris’ first meeting with them go down particularly well, or his usual giddiness when he realised he had let his mouth run away with him and the consequences had now caught up with him.

Chris awarded Hathai a deep smile of apology before he turned to face Phichit and leaned in so close that his mouth was right beside Phichit’s ear.

“Relax,” he murmured, and was sure he could feel the heat in Phichit’s glowing earlobes increase. “We’re getting on just fine. They’re lovely, Phichit. Let me get to know them and just enjoy that they’re here. Okay?”

He leaned back, taking in Phichit’s animated face. He could have sworn his cheeks were pinker than a moment ago.

“Okay.” Phichit’s voice came out a high, somewhat breathless sound.

Chris nodded, pleased, and picked up his wine glass when he faced Hathai once more, raising his glass in a toast that she joined in only too happily. She kept glancing past his shoulder at Phichit, a delighted smile dancing on her face.

“I don’t know what you said to him but it turned him into putty and I like it. Well done. You clearly know how to handle him when he gets a little too excited.”

Chris returned her smile, but out of her sight, his other hand found the small of Phichit’s back and drew small, soothing circles, and he knew from the way Phichit pushed just the slightest bit back into his touch that they were good.

“He’s right though,” she said after a healthy sip of wine from her glass that she immediately followed with a large gulp of water from the second glass in front of her. “I never keep a boyfriend for long.”

Chris frowned. “Why’s that?” He tried to look her over as discreetly and innocently as he possibly could.

“I don’t know.” She sighed. “I get the feeling that I intimidate men.”

“Then they don’t deserve you.”

“I _know_!” she exclaimed and swung her long brown hair back over her shoulder. “And honestly, I don’t want some guy who feels smaller due to he fact that I’m a doctor and most probably earn more money than him anyway.”

“Good thinking!” Chris nodded and raised his glass again to hers to drink to this.

After dinner, they said goodbye to Yuuri and Victor as well as Leo and Guang Hong outside the restaurant, letting them head off home while they walked Phichit’s family through the illuminated city back to their hotel. They had planned some sightseeing for the next day, which Phichit would be taking off from work, so their goodbyes were full of excitement and happy anticipation.

Chris left his car at the hotel car park, not wanting to drive after having wine with his dinner, so they called a cab home and waved goodbye to Phichit’s family when it pulled up outside the hotel.

Phichit was quiet in the back of the taxi.

“Are you alright?” Chris asked gently and pulled him a little closer, brought in his arm just a little tighter around his shoulders.

“Yeah.” Phichit’s smile flared up in the light of a street lantern as they passed it. “It’s just so strange that they are here. We talk so much on the phone and see each other on video and are in and out of each other’s social media all the time… but it’s different to having them around me. Hearing their voices. Their laughter. Seeing their faces for real, not just in my mind because I know them so well that I can picture their reactions whenever I tell them something on the phone. Siri has actually grown.”

“She’ll be taller than you soon.” Chris tried not to smirk. He wasn’t quite successful.

“Yeah. Don’t remind me,” Phichit mumbled, and it did sound a little grumpy, and now Chris did chuckle.

“I’m sorry.” He leaned over and placed a kiss on Phichit’s temple. “Both your younger siblings taller than you… I cannot possibly fathom the depths of your wound.”

“Very funny, Christophe.” But Phichit smiled. “They’re so smart. How are they so smart? They were only born last week. I remember holding them. I was so excited to have a brother and then they placed that shrivelled bright red something in my arms that was giving off weird sounds.”

“You remember that. Did you go to the hospital?”

“Of course. I wouldn’t be kept away.”

“Oh, now that I can imagine.”

“I was getting a little brother. I had to check out the goods.” Phichit shifted so that he was able to see Chris’ face. “Are _you_ alright?” 

“Never better.”

“It’s been a day.” Phichit knew Chris’ workday had been packed, and there was a phone conference scheduled for rather early the next morning.

“It’s been a fantastic day.” Chris took a deep, satisfied breath. Then he yawned, one hand in front of his mouth.

“I’m glad.” Phichit snuggled up closer in his embrace. It _felt_ glad, too.

Rani gave them just the slightest gaze from slitted eyes in passing when they came inside and slipped off coats, scarves and shoes. They walked up the stairs hand in hand, made their way into the bathroom, almost a bedtime routine already. Their eyes met in the mirror when they brushed their teeth, and Phichit grinned around his mouth full of toothpaste.

In the bedroom, the blinds let in some thin slivers of moonlight when Chris slipped under the covers and pulled Phichit close.

“Are you tired?” Phichit whispered against his lips before he kissed him, the tip of tongue wide awake with an agenda of its own.

“Yes and no,” Chris murmured back and their mouths met for a deeper kiss, lazy dancing of tongues heavy from good food and wine and talking. Hands tugged on sleep wear and pushed up shirts on a search for warm, naked skin, and Phichit rolled over onto his back, sighing and arching into the path of kisses Chris paved along his chest and the stomach that quivered with anticipation. The teasing mouth moved lower.

And stopped.

“Phichit… I really want to, but…”

He didn’t need to say the words. Phichit knew. It was the one thing that had left a scar from the leaked nudes affair that they hadn’t been able to move past. It was like an invisible disturbance on their intimacy, the fact that anyone who had seen the photos Chris’ damned ex had put on the internet had seen pictures of Christophe Giacometti sucking cock.

“It’s okay.” Phichit was breathing heavily.

“It’s not okay.” Chris buried his face against Phichit’s stomach. Closed his eyes, and sighed into the feeling of Phichit’s hands curling in his hair. It was fucking not okay. This had been taken from him, from them, one of the most intimate, most pleasurable things to share with a partner had been taken from him and plastered all over the internet. And while he had thought he had come through this somehow, and better, and stronger, he soon found out that this one thing had hit him harder than everything else. He couldn’t go down on Phichit. As much as he wanted to. Whenever the tried to he felt the shame and humiliation again, saw the pictures before his inner eye and was convinced that Phichit saw them too. Saw him look greedy and slutty and cheap.

Chris worked his way up on Phichit’s body again, murmuring a thousand words of apology, until Phichit told him to shut the hell up about it or he would give him something to feel sorry about.

“One day,” Phichit told him firmly when Chris finally touched in his lips with his mouth. “One day it won’t matter anymore, and you will believe me that it’s the most gorgeous sight I have ever seen in my entire life. I can wait until then. I’ve waited a long time for you already. A little more will only make it better.”

“I don’t deserve you,” Chris murmured against his mouth.

Phichit snorted and shut him up with a kiss, lapped up the worries and the shame and the shadows of the past and kissed him until they were all alone in deep of night and the world again.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Two days later, Phichit’s family went on a day trip to some monastery in the mountains. Only Siri decided that she was about forty years too young for monasteries in the mountains, and not even the prospect of a meal of cheese and bread and mead made by the monks themselves could sway her. She wanted to stay with Phichit instead, so he picked her up from the hotel in the morning and waved the rest of his family off before he took her in to work with him.

Mila met them in the foyer already, only too happy to give Siri the tour of the company. They had met Sara and Mila the day before, Siri instantly becoming a fan of the both of them, so the prospect of being able to see where Phichit worked and what all his friends were doing was way more appealing to a geeky teenager than monks in the mountains.

Knowing her in good hands, Phichit breezed through some urgent things at work. It was nearly lunchtime when he saw her stepping out the lift on his floor and wandering over, her eyes darting curiously left and right. Phichit was going to show her round the newsroom later, introduce her to some people she might find it interesting talking to.

Secure in the knowledge that his little sister did not talk to males, Phichit swivelled his chair around to the quickly finished the caption for an Instagram post he had been working on.

“Hi.”

Phichit’s head shot up and to his right. This couldn’t be absolutely—

“I’m Phichit’s sister.”

“Hi.” Yura was looking up at her from his screen, returning her greeting. “I’m his intern.”

“I know. The Tiger.”

“Huh?” Yura almost snarled. “Did he say that?”

“No need to.” She pointed at his tiger print shirt. “And I saw you on video call.”

“I saw you on video call too. I thought you didn’t talk.”

“I make exceptions. Apparently.”

Phichit’s eyes went so wide for a moment he feared they would fall out. What the hell was going on here? Why was she talking so much? To a boy, too?? And why was Yura so nice, by Yura standards???

“What are you doing?” she asked Yura right at this very moment.

“Filtering comments.”

It even sounded like he was rolling his eyes, and Phichit swivelled his chair around.

“You make it sound like filtering comments is all I give you to do,” he said, somewhat pointedly. “You get to go on photo assignments and work on the pictures for our social media sites, and just the other day you got to do Sara’s presentation for our whole department.”

“Cool!” Siri looked from Yura’s screen to Phichit. “Can I intern with you, too?”

“Most certainly not!” Phichit replied immediately and laughed a little. What a ridiculous idea! He checked the time on his phone. “I’ll need another fifteen minutes or so, then we can go have lunch. There’s a nice little café down the street.”

“Sounds good.” She nodded. Then turned to Yura. “Are you coming?”

Yura turned to Phichit, one eyebrow raised like he was forwarding the question.

Phichit sighed. “Of course.”

“I’m going to say Hi to Yuuri and meet you here again, okay?” She didn’t wait for Phichit’s answer, just turned around and wandered off towards the lift. “See you, Phi. See you, Tiger.”

Two pairs of eyes followed her as she sauntered away, two mouths opened in astonishment.

Phichit flinched a little when Yura called out.

“Oi! What do I call you, Phichit’s sister?”

She stopped, having just entered the lift and turned around. “Do you have an iPhone with the voice assistant switched on?”

Yura shook his head.

“Then you can call me Siri.” She gave a little wave before the lift door slid close before her smiling face.

Yuuri looked up when the lift arrived with a cheerful ping and the doors slid open.

“Hi Yuuri.”

“Hello Siri.” He smiled, still a little baffled that she had very cautiously lost her inhibitions over the past days and was actually talking to Phichit’s closest friends now. Not much, and she still blushed an embarrassed pink, but she talked. “Has Peach been showing you around?”

“Mila did. It was great fun.” She glanced to the door to his left. “Is Chris there? Do you think I could speak to him for a moment?”

Yuuri’s eyes darted to the telephone. No red light indicated that Chris was on the phone. Yuuri nodded and jumped up just in case. He walked over to Chris’ door and gave a brief knock before he poked his head in.

A moment later, he opened the door fully to let Siri in, then closed it behind her without a sound.

“Phichit’s sister,” he explained quietly to Georgi, who was curiously watching from the reception desk and gave a nod of understanding that made Yuuri wonder if Phichit and Chris were aware that their still-lying-low relationship was the subject of at least two betting pools in the company. Knowing Phichit though, Yuuri was sure the only thing that would upset his best friend about it was that there were not _more_ bets running about them.

Chris sat with one leg crossed over the other, looking at Siri across his desk.

The moment she came in looking all serious and business-like, he’d known. Chris could spot an enquiry for an internship from a mile. Her reasoning was sound, her ideas inspiring. As a matter of fact he even had some ideas for some interactive projects that could be right up her street. He wasn’t afraid of cries of nepotism either; they had always been a family business and frequently allowed suitable candidates to intern with them - parents or other family members already working for Crispino & Giacometti were never a reason to turn someone down. This was, however, a slightly different case.

“You _have_ to speak to Phichit about this!” Chris said with as much emphasis as he could muster.

“I will.” She nodded, solemnly.

“I’m game if your parents are, but I am not deciding this over Phichit’s head! If he objects, this deal is off.”

“Wow.” She grinned. She looked a lot like Phichit, especially when she grinned. “You really like him.”

Chris fell back into the leather of his chair, defeated. “I really do.”

Later that afternoon, Phichit was sitting at his kitchen table with his parents and Siri, as well as Yuuri who had come over because Phichit cherished his opinion. His grandmother and Hathai had gone to a nearby outlet shopping centre, taking Ananda along because someone needed to drive them, although Phichit suspected they wanted him to carry their shopping more than anything.

Phichit’s parents had listened to Siri’s intern plans and Phichit’s objections patiently, sipping tea that Yuuri kept making, moving around Phichit’s kitchen like in his own.

“You’re a minor,” Phichit addressed Siri. It wasn’t the first time he brought this up.

“Well, technically, it would be okay, with our permission,” his father said calmly. “As long as there’s a related grown-up of age here who can vouch for her, it will be okay.”

“Oh no, no no no no!” Phichit exclaimed. “ _I’m_ that grown-up! I don’t know if I can do this!”

“Chris says I’m suitable for an internship,” Siri said. “He even has something that could be my own little project.”

Phichit’s head whipped around to her. “I said No, so you went to my boyfriend???”

She rolled her eyes. “No! I went to your _boss_.”

“Where would you even stay?”

“Here, of course, with you!” She nodded at the rest of the apartment beyond the kitchen.

“What if Chris wants to stay over?” Phichit asked, hands gesticulating wildly.

“You can go to his house if you’re feeling horny!” she shot back.

“No, I cannot! You’re a minor, I cannot leave you alone overnight!”

“Peach.” Yuuri cut in. He seemed quiet and composed. “She’s sixteen, not six. Victor and I are right next door. Guang and Leo are just down the hall. We can feed her dinner if that calms you and you think she’ll starve when you stay out overnight, and give her a lift in to work in the morning.”

For a moment Phichit stared at Yuuri, mouth wide open while he was trying to find words to say.

“You make it sound so… reasonable,” he brought out at last.

“Because it is.” Yuuri smiled. “Think about it, Peach. It would be a great opportunity for her. And she’d get to be with you. It’s not like she’s a party girl or something. You’re not alone. We’re all here.”

“You were sixteen when you went abroad for the first time,” Phichit’s mother reminded him. “You wanted that high school exchange by all means, no matter what objections we had. You went to the US, for one year, without any relatives anywhere nearby. And we let you go. We trusted you. We trust Siri. And you.”

Phichit huffed. He was coming round, and he knew it. He just didn’t know if he liked it.

His father saw it, too. He smiled. “She’s like you, Phichit. You left home early to see the world and stand on your own two feet. She has loved and admired you the most from the day she was born, you’re her big brother and her biggest hero. I don’t know why you’re so surprised, she’s always wanted to do what you do, follow in your footsteps.”

“You seem very keen on getting your youngest out of the house,” Phichit joked.

His mother snorted. “I’m always sad when one of my children leaves the house. If it was up to me all my chicks would stay close to me all the time. But you’re here. And you have an amazing group of friends around you, who like her, and she likes them. If I didn’t think she would be fine I would oppose this.”

“It’s a good opportunity for her,” his father added. “Crispino & Giacometti is a great company. It will look good in her CV. And she misses you. I don’t think she ever tells you, because you talk all the time and play your online games. But she really misses you. Half of the time she talks about you and how amazing her big brother is.”

Siri blushed. “Did you have to tell him?” she mumbled.

Phichit blushed, too. “Ananda is her big brother, too,” he mumbled.

His parents exchanged a look and laughed. “Oh come on, Phichit, you know exactly that you are the oldest brother and that you’re the one she hero-worships the most. And how much it tickles you.”

Phichit looked at Siri. “Did you even bring enough clothes for a whole month?”

She grinned. “I’m _your_ sister. Of course I did! And anything that’s missing we can buy over here.” Then she sobered up. “Look. If you don’t want me here just say it. It’s okay. I sprang this on you out of nowhere, I think I just got carried away because I liked everything so much when Mila showed me around. But I know I’d be embarking on your life here in a big way, and if that’s a problem, then I won’t insist.”

Phichit looked at her for a long moment, wondering when she had grown up so much, and how much he had missed. Finally he couldn’t hold in a grin for much longer.

“Are you kidding me?” he asked and reached for her hand across the table. “You’re one of my favourite people in the whole world. I would love to have you here for a while. Even though it scares the crap out of me too and you’ll have a curfew and I’ll GPS track your phone!”

His last words were already drowned out by Siri’s happy cheers and thanks as she jumped up from her seat and pounced on him in a big hug.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“My mum wants to have Thai night before they leave,” Phichit told Chris and Yuuri the next day over lunch. They were sitting in the conference room, having stayed behind after a meeting someone had brought pizza in for as a birthday treat.

“With everyone. Because everyone was making sure they’re having a good time on their visit and, well. You know mothers. She wants to give back. And spoil.”

“Great!” Yuuri bit into another slice of pizza.

“In _our_ apartments, Yuuri! They just about fit all of us when the whole extended group gets together. Add six Chulanonts. _We_ cook a lot, but that’s nothing compared to my mum and grandma cooking up a storm.”

“Are you saying we’ll run out of space?” Yuuri asked. He gave Phichit a light pat on the shoulder.

“You could have it at my house.”

They both looked up at Chris’ words.

“What do you mean ‘ _you_ could have it’?” Phichit asked indignantly. “ _We_ could have it! You are practically the guest of honour!”

“There’s enough space, and a fully equipped kitchen. _You_ always say my poor neglected kitchen appliances need more action.” Chris smiled.

“Oh my god, my mum would freak out getting to cook in a kitchen like yours!”

“So what are you waiting for then? Call her. Now.”

Phichit waited a split second but Chris seemed serious, so he picked up his phone.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

It had been a while since his house had resounded with so many voices, Chris thought as he walked through the living room to open the door to Victor and Yuuri. They came in with Yura and drinks, making themselves at home right away. The moment Yura spotted Rani, he was lost to the world.

Back in the kitchen Phichit’s mother waylaid Chris with a spoon full of some dark orange sauce that she made him taste. He couldn’t help himself; he closed his eyes in bliss for a moment and made a deep sound of appreciation. She laughed, loud and cheerful, and briefly cupped his cheek with one hand. The small gesture of motherly affection was something Chris only ever received from Sara’s mother, and those occasions were far too few nowadays. He still felt the impact long after she had hurried back to the stove to stir in one of the many pots they had cooking.

“They love you.” Sara appeared by his side, a glass of bright orange cocktail in her hand that Hathai seemed to be mixing in one of his fancy blenders that he was sure he had never seen in his entire time he had been living in this house.

Chris’ arm automatically slipped around her waist.

“It’s a dirty job, but I suppose someone’s got to do it?” he attempted a joke, that earned him Sara’s elbow in the side.

“Stop that!” she scolded.” You are quite lovable when you don’t fuck up and show your stupid idiot face to people because you think you don’t deserve it.”

Chris sneaked outside onto his terrace when he felt unobserved. Not because he felt it was too much, but because Sara’s words wouldn’t leave his mind, and made him wonder if she could be right. The door opened behind him and he swung around.

“I’m not hiding, I promise!” he hurried to say when Phichit’s father joined him on the terrace. “I was just…” He guiltily brought up the hand in which he had tried to hide the cigarette by his side. “… sneaking in a smoke.”

“I shouldn’t even be saying this, I mean, I tell about twenty people every day why they should quit…” His gaze skimmed somewhat longingly over the cigarette.

“Would you like one?”

“If my wife happens to come to the window, will you cover for me?”

Chris’ eyes widened. Then he laughed. “Of course.” He held out the pack and lit up the cigarette for Phichit’s father. For a little while they smoked in silence.

“I’m not much of a smoker.” Phichit’s father exhaled a small puff of smoke. “It’s a guilty pleasure. A cardiologist sneaking in the odd cigarette here and there. Not exactly flattering myself.”

“Well, they used to be called goods of pleasure,” Chris mused. “Cigarettes, coffee, chocolate.”

“They should be special,” Phichit’s father agreed. Chris tried not to think of his caffeine intake.

“I quit on New Year’s Day,” he said thoughtfully, looking out over the garden. “For real.”

“But you kept an emergency pack hidden somewhere?” He chuckled, sounding not unlike Phichit when he did so. “We get to be a little overwhelming. I hope Phichit warned you in advance.”

“No, that’s not it at all,” Chris hurried to say. “I was just… nervous.”

“Of making a good impression?”

“I know Phichit tells you… things.”

“He does. He told us a lot of things.”

“I figured as much. And I would be a hell of a lot embarrassed if what he told you… months ago, made a difference.”

“It didn’t. It doesn’t.”

Chris nodded, grateful. “You treated my father.” He looked directly at him.

“I did.”

“I should probably thank you…”

“I was doing my job. There’s nothing to thank me for.”

“Still. I don’t want him in my life, but I don’t want him dead or sick or suffering. He’s my father.”

Phichit’s father held his gaze.

“He said a lot of things he shouldn’t have. No father should ever call his child what Phichit told me yours called you. Nothing that happened to him gives him the right. You deserve more. Don’t ever forget that. You lead a successful company, steered it through a major crisis. That’s something to be proud of. You are someone to be proud of.”

“I’ve said and done a lot of stupid and shitty things, too.” Chris exhaled a small cloud of smoke.

“So have we all.” A hand came down on his shoulder and Chris wanted to cry. It felt like something he had been craving in vain all his life. “The people who matter have forgiven you, they’re here right now, filling your house with laughter. With love, for you.”

“I...” The word stuck, and he cleared his throat. “I feel like I don’t know the first thing about love.”

“Well.” Fingers tightened around his shoulder. “Good thing Phichit knows almost a little too much about it and was raised to share it freely. You’ll be fine.”

They smoked in silence for a couple of minutes. Chris could feel his nervous tension evaporating like the wafts of smoke curling into invisibility in the chilly air. The terrace door was opened behind them and they both swung around, guilt on their faces that made way for relief when they saw it was Phichit.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell mum.” Phichit grinned at his father, then turned to Chris. “But you better brush your teeth veeeeery carefully tonight, or else.”

Phichit’s father stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray Chris held out to him and went inside, not without giving Chris’ shoulder another friendly pat. Chris put out his own cigarette and placed the ashtray on the terrace table.

“Is everything okay?” Phichit asked him, one eyebrow raised suspiciously.

Chris smiled and pulled him into a spontaneous hug.

“Perfect,” he muttered over the top of Phichit’s hair.

There was so much food that they had simply loaded the dining room table like a buffet and everyone helped themselves to deep-fried starters and a variety of sauces, pad thai, three different kinds of curry, and enough scented rice to feed an army.

“You’re too skinny. You need to eat!”

Phichit’s grandmother shook her head at the contents on Chris’ plate and added another ladle of pad thai.

He started to laugh, and insisted she join him and eat something too instead of just feeding everyone else.

Phichit found Yuuri upstairs on the landing, leaning on the wooden banister and looking down at the people in the living room. Their friends and Phichit’s family sitting on or standing together by the white leather couches or looking out at the garden, shimmering in the strings of fairy lights now. Rani had laid down over the laps of both Siri and Ananda on one of the sofas, and Yuuri imagined he could hear her content purr all the way up here as he basked in the extra attention and pets.

He took the mocktail Phichit handed him, nodding thanks before he brought the glass to his mouth.

“Are you alright?”

Their shoulders touched when Phichit came to stand beside him, shared warmth seeping through fabric into skin wherever their arms touched.

Yuuri made that familiar humming noise low in his throat that Phichit loved so well.

“I was just thinking...” Yuuri mused when his mouth opened around the straw and he lowered his glass. “How beautiful this house is. All the light and the windows. The garden. How lovely it would be for a family. You know... voices and laughter. Little feet running on the landing. Cuddles on that couch down there looking into the garden.”

Phichit had turned his face towards him. A smile tugged on the corner of his mouth, drawing a string of beautiful longing all the way to his heart, and Yuuri’s words plucked music on it. Phichit could hear it. He could see what Yuuri saw. And he wished for it.

“Think about children sitting here on this landing, sticking their legs through the holes and dangling them in the air as they look down to the living room.” Yuuri sounded almost dreamy.

“Maybe talking to the person sitting on the couch,” Phichit added.

“Mhm.” Yuuri hummed again before he took another drink from his glass. He looked to his right, eyes wide when he saw Phichit scramble down to the floor and slide forward on his butt. “What are you doing?”

“Just testing.” Phichit stuck his legs through one of the spaces between the wood braces that parted each square into four equal triangles. Of course, his skinny legs fit through, and he swung them back and forth a couple of times.

“It’s perfect.” Phichit raised his glass in a toast to Chris, who just at this moment chanced to look up and see him sitting on the landing. He shook his head, but he smiled. Beside Chris, Victor looked up as well.

To his left, Phichit could feel Yuuri go very still.

“Let’s go back down, Peach,” Yuuri said at last, after they had watched the party a little longer, slowly sipping their drinks. There was an edge of longing to Yuuri’s voice, like he wasn’t happy to tear himself from the daydreams he had just entertained.

“Yeah.”

It was the only thing Phichit could think of to say before he slid back from the banister and rose to his feet, grabbed his empty glass from the floor, and followed Yuuri towards the stairs.

Phichit’s mother had made her famous mango sticky rice for dessert, and they fanned out around the living room with bowls and spoons in their hands.

“This tastes better than the one you made,” Chris remarked to Phichit with a wink.

Phichit snorted a little. He meant to say it for Chris’ ears only but it came out louder than he had anticipated. “It’s not peaches and cream, but not too bad, huh?”

“Oh god, you guys, please spare us your dirty little secrets!” Mila recoiled.

“No!” Phichit exclaimed and exchanged a look with Chris, momentarily baffled. “It’s nothing sexual! It’s our favourite dessert! I swear! Peaches with whipped cream and grated chocolate, we have that all the time.”

Every head in the room was turned towards them. For a moment the silence was so loud Phichit could hear his own breath.

“Yeah, right,” Leo said at last and everyone burst out laughing.

Despite Chris and Phichit’s loud protest, everyone helped clean and tidy up before they took their leave.

Phichit’s grandmother seemed especially reluctant to say goodbye to Chris. They had spent the larger part of the night talking, or rather, her flirting with him unashamedly.

“I’ll see you tomorrow!” She ran one hand through his hair before she waved goodbye and made for the car, where everyone was already waiting for her.

“What’s tomorrow?” Chris asked, one arm around Phichit’s shoulder as they stood and watched them drive away, waving obediently until the car was out of sight.

“Oh... did I not mention?” Phichit led the way back inside the house and toed off his shoes. “My family wants to indulge in a good old Chulanont tradition they haven’t been able to share with me for the longest time. We’re going out for karaoke.”

The door handle slipped from Chris’ hand, slamming it shut more firmly than he wanted to.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The pub was in the basement of one of the old buildings right in the city centre. The lights were dimmed when they came down the stairs, only a small area right in front of the large screen that showed football matches on weekends was lit up brightly as the DJ set up his karaoke set. Some tables were already occupied, by passionate karaoke stars they knew by sight from other nights. 

Phichit had reserved the table nearest to the small stage beside the karaoke DJ. It was one of the largest in the whole pub, and they all squeezed together on wooden benches at the long table that looked worse for wear after many years. Yuuri, who had never gotten quite used to the fact that over here karaoke was something that took place in public and not in a private cabin one rented with friends, ordered a round of drinks right away. He knew Phichit too well, knew Phichit would definitely be up on that stage and demand his faithful background choir comprised of his best friends. Phichit and Guang Hong went to speak to the DJ and returned with pens and a pile of note cards as well as two thick folders full of printed off song lists in sheet protectors that had visibly gone through many hands. They were already writing down their names and song titles on cards when Yura was still pondering over the food menu and arguing with Mila that if she wanted fries she would have to order her own, he would certainly not share the ones that came with the burger he had his eyes on. 

The night started slow, the karaoke DJ singing the first song as was his tradition. Phichit tried not to roll his eyes too obviously at Guang Hong, because the DJ always chose something slow that they agreed would never get a party started. They sounded almost relieved when two of the regulars took the stage next and sang ‘Uptown Girl’ and ‘Rebel Yell’.

Phichit was, to nobody’s surprise, the first one of them up on the stage. He went through several songs with Hathai, although when ‘Wrecking Ball’ started he jumped off the stage and left it to her with the words, “It’s _your song_ , Ballbreaker!”

Everyone was having a blast, but Phichit was truly shining. He even insisted on his usual favourite performance – the German version of ‘Make A Man Out Of You’ with Yuuri, Leo and Guang Hong as his trusted back-up choir, the four of them so in tune and well-practised that everyone could see this had been perfected over many, many viewings of _Mulan_ and karaoke nights.

They drank, backing up the alcohol with some greasy but delicious pub grub, friendships being formed over conversations under old green-shaded lamps at a chipped and scratched wooden table. In between the usual karaoke crowd and some brave newbies, they got up on the small stage from time to time and grabbed the mic to belt out their favourites.

“This one’s for you, Yuuri and Victor.” Phichit’s voice was heard all over the pub through his mic.

He exchanged a devilish glance with Guang Hong, who was standing beside him and brought his own mic to his mouth to add, “We’ve been wanting to sing this for you two for a long time.”

“What?” Yuuri’s voice was barely heard over the music that set in, a fast pop tune that got people nodding and dancing along and had a group of teenage girls at the next table gushing.

Phichit and Guang Hong leaned together with their shoulders, sharing one mic for the chorus.

“‘Waking up beside you I'm a loaded gun, I can't contain this anymore, I'm all yours, I've got no control, no control…’”

Yuuri blinked behind his glasses. Holding on to him, Victor laughed almost hysterically and grabbed Yuuri tighter around the waist. On stage, Phichit and Guang Hong were having a ball.

“‘Powerless, and I don't care, it's obvious, I just can't get enough of you, the pedal's down, my eyes are closed, no control…’”

How they even managed to sing while laughing and smirking so much was beyond Yuuri’s understanding. All he knew was that he hadn’t felt this for a long time, that certainty that one didn’t need enemies when one was friends with Phichit Chulanont. Phichit and Guang Hong exchanged a high five when they finished and handed their mics back to the DJ, the glare Yuuri shot the both of them doing exactly nothing to lessen their mirth as they headed to the bar for their free shot every singer got.

“It was fantastic, my darling!” Victor came to stand in front of Yuuri and beamed like a million dollars. “And so accurate!”

“But not for the whole pub to know!” Yuuri rolled his eyes, even though there was a very vivid blush of excitement colouring his cheeks that he tried to hide behind Victor’s shoulder the moment they sat back down at their table.

Phichit was just taking a healthy gulp from his pint when he almost spat it out again into Leo’s face across the table as his eyes happened to pass over the karaoke stage.

“What the... _hell!_ ” he croaked, coughing up a little cider and searching Victor’s gaze like in a panic.

Victor gave him his brightest smile, then turned in his seat, legs swung over the edge of the bench and hands gripping the back of the seat so that he could see the stage better.

On stage, mic in hand and wistful smile on his face, was Chris.

Phichit’s glass came down on the table, missing the coaster, just like his brother’s hand came down between his shoulder blades. The song kicked in, guitars he had listened to a million times but just now felt he was hearing for the first time.

“‘I've been roaming around, always looking down at all I see…’”

Phichit gaped. Everyone around him went crazy and cheered Chris on. Sara and Mila even jumped up to join Guang Hong and Hathai right in front of the stage to do so. Only Phichit felt glued to his seat. He didn’t even notice Leo and Ananda being highly amused by his reaction, or Yuuri taking picture after picture of his stunned face. He wanted to laugh, and to cry, and to scream, and he hoped that Chris could see it every time their eyes met.

The song ended, and Phichit was already off his seat, but Chris made no notions of handing back the mic and getting off stage. Instead, he turned the mic almost artfully between his fingers as another song began.

Phichit was sure he could hear Victor utter an emotional “Oh Chris…” close beside him where he was hovering close to the stage now, near where Victor sat. Victor probably knew why too, Phichit thought. Phichit only knew the song. They had watched it on YouTube only recently, one of the songs on their Eurovision playlist. Phichit knew exactly what the singer looked like and how long her dress was, and that the song had won in the end. He didn’t understand a single word.

But Chris singing in French punched him in the gut and in the heart repeatedly, and he couldn’t look away from him, and when he noticed Chris wasn’t looking away from him either, was singing just for him, Phichit felt ready to combust from hysterics and all the feels.

The moment Chris stepped down from the stage, right there on the side where Phichit was hovering, Phichit pulled him behind a nearby concrete pillar, out of sight from his family and their friends.

“What was that?!” he asked, his voice overturning for a moment, but Chris only smiled. He looked up briefly to check for curious onlookers, then he bent down for a kiss that made Phichit momentarily speechless. Chris grabbed his hand and pulled him along with him towards the bar, insisting on two shots as he had sung two songs, and handed one of them to Phichit. They kissed again after that, tasting of sweet blackcurrant and burning alcohol, and only then did they get back to their table, and the smirks and merciless teasing of the people awaiting them there. 

Meanwhile Yura earned himself more than a few curious looks and comments when he got up on stage, and he growled a little in Victor and Mila’s direction before he sang ‘Paradise City’.

“Wow! Yuratchka!” Victor slung one arm around him when the song was finished and spontaneously decided to let him have his shot of blackcurrant _schnapps_. Yura’s reaction was gruff, which clashed with the timid smile that wanted to lift the corners of his mouth. He walked over to the bar with his shoulders proudly squared, and down his shot in one second.

Phichit’s grandmother sang Alice Cooper’s ‘Poison’ and had the whole pub singing along. Leo sang ‘Chasing Cars’ and had Guang Hong crying into his pint.

Halfway through the evening, Phichit’s father took the stage.

“This is for my wife of thirty years now on our recent wedding anniversary. You are still the most beautiful and most wonderful woman in the world to me,” he announced before he launched into a heartfelt rendition of Bruno Mars’ ‘Just The Way You Are’. It had his wife in happy tears, standing right in front of the stage looking at him with adoration. Their four grown children hid their faces behind hands or friends, groaning quietly with embarrassment, while Phichit’s friends went absolutely crazy and cheered his parents on with all they had.

After him, Phichit’s mother was barely able to sing when it was her turn. Her rendition of ‘I Wanna Dance With Somebody’ caused several people to dance on the small make-shift dance floor right in front of the stage, among them Phichit and Hathai who twirled each other around, laughing and singing along at the top of their voices to the “with somebody who loves me” part. Waiters wound around them with trays full of drinks in their hands like well-practised dance moves of their own they honed every Friday when karaoke brought the crowds to the pub.

“Yuuri?”

He looked up, surprised to find Siri looking down at him. Of course, she was blushing profusely. But she was talking to him, and with her parents present there was no way she would have drunk a little alcohol for courage or anything. Suddenly Yuuri felt very touched.

“Would you… maybe… sing a song from _Your Name_ with me?”

The words were rushed, and she stumbled over them a little. The blush in her cheeks became deeper, if that was even possible. Yuuri’s heart went out to her. Couldn’t he just understand so well how she was feeling?

“Of course.” He downed the rest of his beer in one go and rose from his seat.

“I thought, maybe ‘Nandemonayia’?” she asked as they made their way to the DJ to ask for the song.

“Sure.”

Victor of course wouldn’t be stopped from taking position right in front of the stage when their song came up. A surprised “Yuuuuri!” had escaped him when Yuuri took off his glasses and placed them on the table beside his empty glass. Wild horses couldn’t have kept Victor away.

On stage, Yuuri and Siri whispered quietly to each other or a moment, then gave a nod to the DJ, before they faced the crowd together, mics gripped tight in their hands, both of them flushed crimson but determined.

The song had no intro. Siri started singing immediately.

“‘The sorrowful gust of wind that blew right between you and me…’”

The soft quietness of the first verse made the people around them fall silent for a moment. She didn’t look directly at anyone, but she sang the first few lines perfectly, then looked at Yuuri, who nodded, almost proudly, before he ran one hand through his slightly tousled hair as if to gather strength for his upcoming part.

Someone who knew Yuuri very well wouldn’t have missed the moment when the sparkles came on in his eyes, the tiniest shift from shyness and reluctance to deny his best friend’s little sister a favour, to something else. It was too brief, barely noticeable. Most people were looking at Yuuri who was _not_ looking at the screen in front of him to read the lyrics. He didn’t need to. They didn’t match with what he was singing. In one split second, spontaneously and without forewarning, Yuuri had decided to continue in Japanese.

Their group went wild.

Victor stopped functioning.

In between their friends screaming and whistling, clapping and nudging each other, Chris took numerous pictures of Victor’s absolutely dumbfounded face, staring at Yuuri with his mouth wide open and his eyes shining with what might have been tears. Phichit had wanted to freeze his expression for eternity, but he couldn’t stop laughing and hailing Yuuri, yelling “Hell yeah, Katsu-damn!” at the stage. 

Siri was staring at Yuuri with shock-widened eyes for a moment, but a switch had been flicked now.

“Come on, Siri-chan, you know the Japanese words, don’t you?” Yuuri encouraged her.

And she did. They didn’t need lyrics, they just sang the whole song in Japanese until the end, Yuuri looking like a changed person, having an absolute blast now and pulling Siri along.

“He’s drunk,” Guang Hong remarked to Victor, a fond smile playing around his mouth almost like an attempt at an apology.

“I don’t care.” Victor was staring at Yuuri, the very definition of besotted twisting his face so that it looked like he was almost crying with happiness, shining blue eyes and an absolutely besotted heart-shaped smile. “He’s marvellous!”

Guang Hong laughed and brought his glass to his mouth.

Victor and Leo found themselves engaged in lively conversation with whoever happened to be at their table. The designated drivers for the evening, they stuck to soda and water, although Victor actually ordered the hot milk with honey he could see on the menu and was a little miffed when the waiter and the kitchen staff had to admit they hadn’t served this for the longest time because nobody ever ordered it and the honey they found in the kitchen was rock hard and ancient. He ordered tea instead, and heaved a deep, dramatic sigh when he saw the brand of the tea bag. Time and again someone would get up to sing and someone else join them at the table, Victor nudging Yura when he threatened to fall asleep where he was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed in front of his chest. They kept everyone in crisps and drinks, took pictures and filmed videos to remember this evening by. Phichit’s grandmother started a karaoke WhatsApp group and added all of them, and they uploaded the first pictures and videos on the spot.

Meanwhile on the small karaoke stage, Yuuri was on fire.

He had sung all the anime songs the DJ had in his repertoire with Siri by now and was currently on the last one from _Your Name_ , stopping the pathos momentarily to stand very still and find Victor’s eyes like he was singing the words only for him.

“…’How I hope to have forever to spend this life, no－all future lives right here in this world with you’…”

“Alright, that’s it!” Victor put his cup of cheap tea down on the table with a loud clank against the saucer. Within seconds he had jumped up from his seat and rushed up the small stage, ripped the microphone from Yuuri’s hand and handed it to the surprised DJ before he reached for the equally surprised Yuuri with both hands and pulled him into the biggest, raunchiest kiss this pub had ever seen, judging from the noise of the cheers and whistles that became loud all around them.

Phichit took to the stage again when the first people were already going home. He had put in a request a while ago, almost immediately after Chris had surprised him with his performance. It had taken some time for all the other songs in the queue to be done. His choice seemed to fit the late hour, and the heads sinking lower into palms where arms were propped up on tables.

“‘When you feel all alone and the world has turned its back on you. give me a moment please, to tame your wild, wild heart…’”

All the other people fell away when Phichit started to sing. Chris was leaning against the side of their table, having walked Phichit’s grandmother back to her seat after their impromptu duet of ‘Don’t Stop Believin’”. The moment their eyes met it felt like the lights dimmed even lower and a spotlight circled just the two of them like in their own small world.

“‘Let me be the one you call, if you jump I'll break your fall…’”

It was like he was putting all his smiles and all his light into song. Their friends all around them nudged and whispered to each other, Phichit’s sisters making the same “Awww!” faces Sara and Mila were making. Leo and Victor took pictures of their expressions, having quietly agreed that this could be gold at some undefined point later in the future. Just in case, they wanted to be prepared, like best friends are.

“‘If you need to fall apart I can mend a broken heart, if you need to crash, then crash and burn - you're not alone… you’re not alone…’”

Phichit didn’t really look where he was putting the mic, and the song was not completely over by the time he already stepped down from the stage. Chris was there, it only took them two long strides and one outstretched arm, and then Phichit was in his arms, and the one word, “Touché!”, murmured closest to his ear, washed over Phichit like a sense of home.

“I’ve had the best evening in a long, long time. Your family is absolutely delightful!”

Phichit was still clinging to his neck when he realised Chris was still talking. He gulped, the lump in his throat suddenly feeling enormous and impossible to swallow like the mochi he had tried with Yuuri once when Yuuri’s mother had sent some in her care parcel. He leaned back to be able to look up at Chris. Feeling the eyes of his whole family on them he refrained from pulling him into a kiss, especially since he could hear them making pertinent comments. Phichit rolled his eyes. Chris laughed and rubbed his temple. ‘Later’, he mouthed. Phichit nodded.

Later was when the pub staff seemed almost glad to be able to go home when they finally all stumbled up the stairs towards the cars.

“ _You’ll_ take me home, Vikutoruuu!” Yuuri flung himself at Victor’s neck. “ne? _ne_ , Vikutoru? You’re taking me home this time!”

His eyes were huge and sparkling behind his glasses. His smile could probably have softened a rock with the sheer load of trust he placed in it. Phichit was reminded of that night in the club months ago when Victor had mastered the Hercules task of not taking Yuuri home in a similar situation.

“Yes, my darling, I’m taking you home.” Victor breathed a kiss on Yuuri’s forehead and wound one arm around his middle to steady him.

Phichit felt almost physical pain on Victor’s behalf. Yuuri in this state was irresistible, and a handful. It was a good thing Victor was driving, because Yuuri would very probably have climbed into Victor’s lap had they been in the back of the taxi and started dry-humping him, and he would be insufferable tomorrow with a hangover from hell. Phichit loved him with all his heart, but he was glad to be passing over the baton to Victor now.

Guang Hong, Yura, Mila, Sara and Yuuri piled into Victor’s and Leo’s cars after many hugs and many tearful goodbyes to the Chulanonts, who were leaving town the next morning. They were going on to Berlin, Phichit joining them for a couple of days, and then flying home from there.

Chris and Phichit walked them back to their hotel again, Phichit with his sisters on his arm, the three of them still singing as they walked around the partygoers out and about in the streets. He could feel Chris’ eyes on him the whole time from where he was walking behind him with Phichit’s grandmother, arms linked.

That night, Chris felt the strain in his neck where he bent his head for too long just like Phichit was stretching his, eager mouths touching and searching, diving into kisses that stole the breath from one another and gave back at the same time, moving slowly, deeply, in the warm shine of one single nightlight, while from the speakers hidden in the bedroom walls a slow, acoustic version of ‘Use Somebody’ was playing on repeat.

They rose at dawn, stood under the shower and made slow, lingering love that would have to last them for days, before they got dressed. Phichit’s suitcase for Berlin was ready by the door, and Chris drove him to the hotel where they met his family.

Chris steeled himself. He didn’t want to let the hurt in, knowing it was lurking there, in every hug from every member of Phichit’s family. In every question whether he really couldn’t join them, in every regretful shake of his head. He had expected they would be amazing. He hadn’t expected that they would treat him with so much love. So much love that it hurt almost physically to say goodbye. He had to promise to eat, and to call, and to send pictures of Rani, and to take good care of Phichit. And to let Phichit take care of him. He had to promise to visit. That one hit him the hardest.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The bar was crowded for a week night, as was to be expected from one of the latest hot spots in the city. Tables, rather on the smallish side for a maximum of four people, were distributed in nooks that looked hewn straight out of the wall, unrefined arches still hanging over, painted a light grey. Industrial lamps hung low over the tables, shedding a dim light over the polished wood and the black leather chairs. In one of the niches, Victor was currently on his third gin&tonic, and he was looking a little worse for wear. His hair wasdisheveled, his tie hung loose around the wonky collar of his shirt. Next to him Yuuri watched him carefully and nodded his approval. A deep chuckle from across the table made them both look up.

Chris had taken off his suit jacket and folded it over the empty chair beside him. He was nursing a glass of champagne, while Yuuri was sticking to beer. Phichit having gone off to Berlin with his family for a few days was a good opportunity to hold Chris to his betting debts, Yuuri had decided. He had also noticed that Chris was lacking in concentration at work. Staring at his phone during meetings, losing his train of thought. Getting Chris out of his huge empty house as long as Phichit was out of town was a positive side effect, Yuuri knew. Phichit would be grateful, he knew that, too. Always taking care of everyone, his Yuuri, Victor had teased affectionally when Yuuri proposed going for that drink after a long day in the office. That of course had been several gin&tonics ago, when Victor was still more coherent.

“Yuuuuri! I’ve had enough now!” It sounded almost like protest, but Victor’s eyes were dancing, and shining blue like the bottle the gin in his glass came from.

“I actually think so, too.” Chris looked at Yuuri across the small table, one eyebrow raised. “I thought you didn’t like him getting sloshed.”

“Betting debts are bets of honour. I’m not letting you off the hook so easily,” Yuuri told Chris with an almost menacing smirk on his face. To Victor, he added, “Drink up.”

Moments later the straw made a slurping sound on the bottom of the empty glass. Victor’s mouth let go of the plastic and he looked up at Yuuri, tousled hair and big heart-shaped smile, and the blissful expectation of praise that reminded Yuuri of Vicchan when he had performed a trick and anticipated a treat as reward.

Yuuri had to laugh. He brushed Victor’s bangs from his face, then he turned around towards the bar and signalled for another round. Chris chuckled. Victor groaned.

Another gin&tonic later, Victor could not really sit up straight anymore. He bought his arms together on the table in front of him and just slumped face forward until his forehead came to rest on his arms.

Checking he was comfortable and then nodding to himself, Yuuri turned his attention to Chris.

“I don’t know if I should be asking this or not but…” Yuuri blinked. He looked almost insecure for a moment. “How is your father?”

Chris breathed so deeply that his whole upper body rose and fell with the effort. “His health seems okay. Otherwise he probably wouldn’t be moving his stuff out of my childhood home at the moment and drive my mother crazy.”

“Are they getting a divorce?” Yuuri asked.

Victor’s head came up from the table top. “We’re not getting a divorce!” he exclaimed. “Never!”

“Of course not.” Yuuri smiled at him, and Chris could see how everything inside Victor dissolved and turned into mush. Victor nodded for affirmation, mostly to himself, before he dropped his face on his arms again.

Yuuri and Chris grinned at each other over their drinks.

“I think so. Massimo is keeping me… I’d say sporadically updated. I didn’t particularly ask him to, but I didn’t tell him not to either. They are my parents, after all.”

Yuuri nodded. His face took on a wistful expression. “It’s hard to cut family loose.”

Victor started muttering something to the table where his forehead was resting on his crossed arms, and Yuuri reached out with one arm to caress the nape of his neck with soft, calming movements of his fingertips. Victor’s muttering stopped, and something that might have been a dramatically happy sigh tried to break free from the cushion his arms made on the table.

On the table in front of Chris his phone buzzed with an incoming message. Yuuri didn’t need to see his phone the right way up to guess who the sender was. The way Chris tried hide an eager smile was a dead giveaway.

“Go ahead.” Yuuri nodded encouragement. He leaned down to mutter in Victor’s ear while Chris unlocked his screen and saw the picture. Chris noticed from the corner of his eye how Yuuri’s face softened further the moment he talked quietly in Victor’s ear. How he smiled and placed the softest kiss on Victor’s temple. Brushed silver bangs away with such tenderness that Chris felt like in intruder even not-really-watching as stealthily as he was. 

He focused on his phone screen for a different tug on his heart. Brandenburg Gate at night was always a sight to behold, the sandstone columns and especially the quadriga on top illuminated against the night sky. He was sure people were walking through the passages between the columns even now but Phichit had found the one moment in time and the right angle to make it appear as if it was deserted. Chris could see the people in the next picture, behind Phichit’s family posing in front of the gate, and he knew that city never slept and neither tourists nor locals ever stopped visiting one of their most famous landmarks. Chris heaved a sigh. Suddenly he wished he had accepted the invitation to come along. It had been a while since he’d last visited Berlin. Perhaps Phichit wouldn’t be bored of it when he came back and would be willing to go back, for a weekend together.

“Are they enjoying Berlin?” Yuuri sat up straight again, though his hand remained in Victor’s hair, playing absentmindedly with the strands in the back of Victor’s neck.

“Yes.” Chris’ eyebrows climbed high on his forehead when another text came in, his eyes moving as he quickly read it. “And apparently they share my sentiments that I should have come with them.”

“Why didn’t you? Just take a few days off and leave Victor in charge?”

The moment the words were out of Yuuri’s mouth both of them looked at Victor who was, judging from the way his back rose and fell in the rhythm of steady breathing, sleeping off the first winnings of a bet in his life. When they looked back at each other, they started laughing.

“Phichit’s family is quite something.” Yuuri picked up his glass and drank up the remaining beer. A fond smile played around his mouth when he wiped a bit off foam from his upper lip with the back of his hand.

Chris chuckled. “I think they’re wonderful. I imagined the people who raised him to be wonderful, but they surpassed my wildest expectations. And they just adopted each and every one of us.”

Yuuri looked up from where he had been looking at Victor again at the sound of the last word.

“I don’t think adoption is what they have in mind when it comes to _you_.” He winked.

And Chris actually blushed. Yuuri’s eyes widened. Started to sparkle with mischief.

“I have met previous boyfriends’ parents, occasionally,” Chris admitted. “Not one of them ever just pulled me into a hug like they did. None ever just met me with so much… affection. They must know about a lot of crap I’ve done, because I know Phichit talks to them about his life here and makes them a big part of his life, even across the distance, and they still met me like this.”

“They sure left an impression.”

“And a freezer full of home-cooked meals.” Chris sounded disbelieving, still. “They didn’t even tell me. Just left a note pinned to the fridge door with one of those magnets I sent you out to get for Leyla’s drawings.”

Yuuri’s smile matched the glee in his eyes. “My mother actually asked me about you. Not in a ‘your boss’ way. Apparently Phichit’s mum is raving enthusiastically about you to her on WhatsApp.”

“You just made that up.” Chris grinned.

“Want to bet?” Yuuri grinned back at him.

“ _Don’t!_ ” Victor’s voice from the hollow his arms created on the table sounded like a bear growling out of the depths of his cave while he was still half hibernating. “Nothing good ever came from you making bets, Chris!”

Both their heads turned on him like one again, then back to face each other.

“Fair,” Chris said. They both shrugged.

“Speaking of your mother…” Chris brought his own glass to his lips. “When will you visit your family again, Yuuri? Introduce that one?”

He pointed the bottom of his glass in Victor’s direction.

“Sometime this year, I hope.” Yuuri blushed, and Chris wondered whether he had ever actually voiced that thought out loud, as flustered as he seemed all of a sudden.

A deep, sleepy “Yuuuuuuri!” was heard from somewhere between Victor’s folded arms. It made Yuuri extend the caress of his fingertips to his whole hand running through Victor’s hair. He pulled it back immediately when Victor uttered a sigh that was way too intimate for the public place they found themselves in.

“He will probably look very much like this, visiting my family,” Yuuri mused. He glanced briefly at Chris. His features softened when his eyes fell on Victor again. “My mother will cook up a feast and my father will bring out the sake.”

“And Victor will eat and drink up everything that is placed in front of him because he loves his food and he wouldn’t want to be rude and not drink with your father.” Chris was watching them with a fond smile.

They called it a night after a round of water, Victor looking very ready for bed now and his smile never-ending. Yuuri managed to get him into his suit jacket and coat while Chris settled the bill, and they finally stepped out into the January evening to wait for their separate taxis on the pavement.

“Yuuri!” Victor threw his arms around him from behind. “I’m hot.”

“Yes, you are,” Yuuri muttered under his breath and bit back laughter as he wrestled himself out of Victor’s octopus-like grasp and turned around to face him.

“Can I take this off?” Victor started unbuttoning his shirt under his open coat and suit jacket, and Yuuri grabbed his wrists to keep them still.

“Victor, for god’s sake!” Yuuri giggled. He huffed out quiet relief when the taxis pulled up. Chris waited until Yuuri had manoeuvred Victor into the back of one and fastened the seatbelt over his chest, then climbed back out.

“I think we’ll come in later to work tomorrow,” Yuuri said to Chris after a glance at Victor in the car, his hands in his hips like he had just accomplished an arduous task of manual labour.

“It’s okay, I’m sure your boss will understand.” Chris laughed and leaned down to look past Yuuri into the back of the car. “‘night, Victor. Keep your clothes on until Yuuri gets you home, okay?”

“So mean!” Victor pouted. “‘night, Chris. Love you!”

Chris straightened up, exchanged another smile with Yuuri before much to his surprise Yuuri actually gave him a quick hug before he joined Victor in the backseat of their taxi. Chris closed the car door on them and put his hand on the roof for a moment, then watched them leave before he slid in on the backseat of the other taxi and gave his address.

His phone rang just as he was pulling it from his coat pocket to see if Phichit was still awake.

“Hello.” Chris settled back more comfortably in the seat. “Finished sightseeing at last?”

Phichit’s voice and soft laughter kept him company all the way home until his head hit the pillow, its echo keeping the demons away.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

On Saturday afternoon, Chris pulled the door open before Phichit could even ring the bell. Surprise dragged Phichit’s smile even wider across his face like sunlight creeping across the floor and walls of a room where the curtains were pulled.

“I dropped Siri off at my place and she’s currently taking over my apartment, but I really wanted to see you before we decide what we want to do tonight,” Phichit said instead of a greeting, the words stumbling fast over his lips like an intro played at double speed in order to get to the important part.

“Absolutely,” Chris replied curtly and his hands came around Phichit’s face as he bent down to kiss him, right there on his doorstep.

“Wow!” Slightly out of breath, Phichit walked into the living room, already unbuttoning his coat. “What have I missed?”

“Hopefully me as much as I missed you.” Chris closed the door. He watched Phichit’s eyebrows climb impressively high. “This was the longest week of my entire life.”

“What are you talking about, Christophe?” Phichit laughed a little as he tossed his coat down at the foot of the sofa, but Chris remained serious and stepped into his path when Phichit wanted to head out into the kitchen.

“Do I have to spell it out for you? I’m in love with you.” His hands came down on Phichit’s shoulders.

“I have fallen in love with you, Phichit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *gasp*


	11. Intoxicated

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaah, life is just... life. I'm late with the new chapter, again. These two just don't behave like I want them to. Neither does my life.
> 
> I apologise in advance for sad Chris showing up again in this chapter. It's the last time, I promise. But after all we've seen of him in 10 Things, I believe it would be very unrealistic if everything went smoothly to happy happy joy joy. Fear not - all will be well. 
> 
> I'm super tired, so please excuse any typos. I will find them tomorrow. I hope you like this chapter. Have a nice weekend everyone. xxx

**11 - Intoxicated**

Phichit was staring. He knew that he was and yet he wasn’t able to stop. He blinked, several times, but the picture didn’t dissolve, and the weight of Chris’ hands on his shoulders would not ease up. He felt it all the way up to the corners of his mouth, where they would not turn upwards, and all the way inside to his heart, where it turned into a fist that was squeezing until he lost breath and sanity and felt faint. When words came at last, they sounded faint, too.

“You have?”

Well, some ridiculously small last shred of reason inside Phichit’s head was screaming, at least it wasn’t a squeak. But Chris nodded, his face so close that Phichit could see every crease around his eyes and every unevenness on his skin, and was pretty sure he would have been able to count every single hair in his beard as well, if only he had not been drawn in and completely mesmerised by the sheer beauty of green eyes. He wanted to drown in them, Phichit thought, because he knew. _He_ knew how much warmth and life was in those eyes, now that they seemed to have come alive and all the bitterness had made way for flecks of hopeful gold and dancing sparkles lately. Phichit had read up on green gemstones, like he was curious about random facts on average, and ridiculously obsessive when in love at best. He knew all about the representation of growth and heart and renewal. He just hadn’t found them so vividly looking back at him.

Until now.

And he already knew that Chris could make the smallest words sound like they meant a whole world, but now Phichit discovered that he had the same abilities when it came to small gestures and glances, too. Phichit had thought he felt weak in the knees before. Now he knew he hadn’t had an idea of what it felt like to feel weak. He felt weak in everything, in his legs that seemed rubbery under him, and in thinking because there was a shambles of happiness and hysteria inside his head, and in words, because there were just too many and he couldn’t even make a simple decision like which ones he wanted to allow to cross his lips first after his first unfortunate attempt from moments ago. Instead, a hand came up to cup Chris’ face, and Phichit realised it was his own, the delicious scruff of stubble digging into the heel of his hand while warmth seeped through his fingers and he watched and felt his thumb draw the curve of a dry bottom lip.

Chris moved, shifted the angle of his head just the smallest bit but it felt like the world coming off its hinges for Phichit all over again, this tiny gesture of Chris’ moulding his cheek into Phichit’s touch. He turned it so that he could place a kiss in the palm of Phichit’s hand, his eyes closing for the one split second that his lips spent connected with Phichit’s skin, and Phichit watched the dark lashes come to rest against his cheeks and was overwhelmed by the certainty that he was holding so much more in his hand than just Chris’ face.

“I’m sorry… you’re probably waiting for me to say something…” Phichit cleared his throat when he found he still sounded a little croaky.

“Am I?” Oh, the deep, velvet touch of this smooth voice, Phichit felt it like an invisibility cloak draped around the both of them and hiding them, no matter how much he wanted to show them off to the world.

Chris smiled. And there was nothing smug about it, no knowing, and no insecurity.

And Phichit knew he didn’t need to say anything. Suddenly he knew. Somewhere along the way they had reached that place where some things didn’t need to be spoken, because they were just clear, as clear and soft as freshly fallen snow, and just as beautiful, and more. Phichit rose on his toes and captured his lips in a kiss. For one last moment of wonder Chris’ eyes widened just the smallest bit, but before they could close to savour the onslaught of Phichit’s emotions fully, Phichit saw Everything in them.

He told him with his mouth, but not with words. His lips brushed over Chris’ almost feather light, not teasing but awed and cautious like they had been just before the first time they made love, when they knew every kiss could ignite a fire they couldn’t be sure they would ever be able to put out again. Now they knew that they didn’t want to. The only thing they wanted to do was to fan this fire, and how gladly they wanted to be consumed by it. How perfect did the bow of Chris’ mouth fit against his own, Phichit thought when he kissed him, small, cautious kisses that made just the quietest of sounds. He added pressure, and enough warmth for the both of them. He waited just until he saw the flutter of lashes against cheeks before he closed his own eyes and dove head first into the feelings.

With every stroke of his tongue into his mouth, his fingers inched further around the sharp angle of his jaw and the back of Chris’ head until he curved it almost protectively in his hand and pressed not just him but the both of them further into the kiss. His hand found no hold in the immaculate undercut so he sought until he felt the first caress of soft curls and slipped his hand into them like a home in which every single one of his fingers had a room of its own. With every centimetre he rose higher on his toes and his upper body leaned into Chris’ chest, with every breath and sigh, Phichit said: I’m in love with you too.

It felt like the first kiss all over again, and yet. Something was different this time around, something in the way Chris pushed past the boundaries of any restraint he might have imposed on himself until this point. He kissed desperately, fiercely, and with a lazy prowess that made Phichit feel captured and so weak in the knees that rising up into the kiss became a bit of an effort. He gave way to the determined tongue licking into his mouth and let the taste of Chris seep into every nook and cranny of himself until he felt high on it, like he would surely die if he ever tasted anything else for the rest of his life.

Phichit’s hand, the one that was not gripping a handful of Chris’ hair so tight now that he could hear Chris moaning into their kiss through the pounding of blood in his ears, dug into the wool of his sweater by his shoulder for support. The green sweater he’d worn the very first time Phichit came here, he had registered it the moment he walked through the door. The one that brought out the colour of his eyes so vividly. Phichit could see it blindly, it was tattooed on the insides of his eyes, this very definition of why green was the colour of hope and renewal.

He felt Chris’ hands, warm and strong, roaming over his back with such assuredness that suddenly Phichit felt small and wanted to. He wanted to mould himself into the touch of these hands and be shaped into the Phichit that was just right for Chris. It was a like a switch flicked on very dynamics between them, and it went right down to the very core of him and back out in all the places they touched. He breathed it into Chris, all the trust, all the devotion, all the permissions. Phichit felt it in the shiver running down his spine, and how the door fell shut on inhibitions the very moment Chris’ hands cupped him just below his arse and at the top of his thighs, and the bolts fell into place when Phichit let himself be lifted up and his legs came around Chris’ waist like they had always been meant to be there. He felt it in the force of nature that became their kiss, Chris’ tongue delving so deep into his mouth like he wanted to devour him whole, on par with Phichit’s passion, and the vigour with which they slammed into the wall near the staircase, and in the poke of Chris’ knuckles into his spine where one of his hands had shot up and planted one palm on the wall in Phichit’s back to absorb the shock of them crashing into it.

“Phichit…” Chris breathed his name like a desperate plea when he yanked his mouth away, hasty breaths almost swallowing up the two syllables as if he wanted to inhale those, too. Phichit would have given them gladly. The two syllables of his name and everything else, here and now Chris could have it all.

“I swear if we don’t stop now I’m going to throw you over my shoulder, carry you up to my bedroom and make love to you until we both forget our names.”

Phichit tightened the grasp of his wrists behind Chris’ head and grinned, though his face flushed, and he knew it.

“I want to see that.” He grinned up at him. From under his lashes like he knew he could slay best.

“Careful what you wish for…” Chris murmured against his lips. “It might come true.”

“I bloody well hope so,” Phichit murmured back. “It’s been a long week in Berlin and sharing a hotel room with my brother.”

Chris heaved a sigh that drew the longing of one endless week apart up from the very depths of his heart. For a moment their foreheads came to rest together, eyes locking, and every breath a living entity in the small space they created between them where tension was vibrating like the calm before a storm.

“So.” Phichit squirmed a little. He quite liked this position, he felt. Trapped between a wall and Chris’ body, wrapped around him with everything he had. They were so made for it. “Bedroom? Or right here?”

Chris rolled his eyes. “I just served my heart on a plate to you, Phichit Chulanont!” He chuckled.

“And I appreciate it, but… oh _god_ , do you have to? Make that sound?” Phichit was almost whining.

“This one?” Chris chuckled again, low and deep and right next to Phichit’s ear.

Phichit groaned. He clamped his legs tighter around Chris’ waist. Rocked his crotch more urgently against him. “Fuck, yes! I want to make love to this sound. If you could fuck a sound, I’d fuck this one.”

Chris laughed. “I’m glad _you_ are the romantic one in this relationship.”

He was arousing. It was as simple as that. After one week without getting to see him in person or being close enough to touch, Phichit felt the acute need to recharge his Christophe batteries. To reacquaint himself with the way his arms felt around him, or his hand under his arse like right now, with the way he smelt. Phichit buried his face in the curve of his neck and breathed in as deeply as he could. It was a different perfume, Phichit noticed. Probably another season. Something fresh and sweet lingered in it like a promise, something that made him think of their weekend in the Swiss mountains and want to go back there and make the place theirs even without snow. There was still sandalwood and bergamot, and he was glad, for they suited Chris so well, turned into so much warmth and elegance and sex appeal blended with his pure, unfiltered scent of clean skin. One of his hands let go from where he locked them around his neck and snaked out underneath Chris’ arm and around his back. Phichit let his nose skim over the warm stretch of skin on his throat, nuzzled the sensitive part right under Chris’ ear, before he let his tongue dart across a burning hot earlobe and smirked when he heard a sharp intake of breath.

“Phichit. Stop now.”

“No.” Phichit leaned so far back that his head came to rest against the wall. “And please do not cockblock the both of us now by bringing up my little sister and the fact that I’m a responsible adult with babysitting duties for a teenager.”

“Deal.” Chris kissed him then, the scruff of beard leaving just the most welcome scratch against Phichit’s face when he went on to shower his whole face in kisses, hot breath soothing like an aftermath that dragged sighs from the very bottom of Phichit’s heart.

Five minutes later Phichit was running up the stairs to Chris’ bedroom, trying not to stumble from laughing so hard while he tried to outrun Chris, who took two steps at once without effort. Phichit pulled his shirt off when he reached the top of the stairs, though he waited with throwing it in Chris’ face until Chris was safely up and two steps away from the stairs.

Chris kicked the bedroom door shut with his foot and yanked his own sweater over his head before he tossed both their tops carelessly to the floor. His eyes didn’t leave Phichit for one second. Phichit, who was already sitting on his bed, resting his weight back on his hands and crawling backwards up on the cover until his back hit the headboard. His chest was rising and falling with excited breaths that resounded loud in the room, his teeth dug into his bottom lip, his eyes shining almost feverish as his gaze dropped to where Chris’ hands were making quick work of his belt and button and zipper before he unceremoniously dropped his pants, and Phichit felt his mouth go dry.

The bed dipped lightly where Chris planted one knee and moved over until Phichit felt like the prey of a big, graceful cat, and the excitement wanted to erupt from him like lava from a volcano.

“I missed you too!” Phichit admitted, before the words ceased to exist and they spoke in sighs and laughter, touch and heat. They collided with clashing teeth and bruising lips and frantic limbs that strived for the completion they’d been denied for one week.

This was different, Phichit knew. It felt different than all the other times. When he teased, a different fire flickered in the green of Chris’ eyes, and Phichit knew he had lit it with his own. He was no longer alone in charge, they both were, and it was a feeling he could get drunk on. Suddenly he knew he could do anything and Chris would be there. It was scary, the scariest feeling ever, being in love and open about it.

And Phichit hated to think of the comparison but there he was, reminded of a big, sensual cat again with every fluid movement Chris made, and he threw back his head for him when he found himself on his stomach with his arms drawn up. Chris wasn’t gentle when he grabbed him around the waist and dragged his hips up, and Phichit didn’t want him to be. And then Chris was over him, and Phichit moaned when he felt Chris’ knees against the sides of his lower legs, and one hand came into his view where he rested his face against the sheet, Chris’ fingers sprawled flat on the bed where he supported himself with one hand while the other pulled on Phichit’s hips.

Phichit felt taken, deliciously so, muttering curses and hiding smiles in the sheets where he buried his face until he needed to breathe and gasp because he felt he was going crazy from the pace Chris set, thrusting into him from behind. He found all the right angles and perfect sensations like this, with ease. Phichit felt drunk and inebriated, all his senses filled to the brim with Christophe, and then he took more, until they had seeped under skin and into bones and filled their cells and very beings with each other. When Chris leaned over to bury his mouth in the skin of Phichit’s shoulder and the unsteady breaths he forced in and out his lungs became loud and obscene in the most erotic way, Phichit moaned again and raised his hips just a little higher so that he could reach down and stroke his weeping cock in time with every stroke of Chris’ length inside him. He came beautifully, Phichit knew it without having to see him. He felt it in every tremble and stutter, he heard it in every groan, and in the throaty chuckle against his ear when their legs gave out under them and slid back until Phichit lay completely flat on his stomach and Chris covered him with his body and Phichit felt them both, spent and safe and closer. He moved just so much that he could wind his hands around Chris’ forearms where they lay curled around him, and drop his sweaty temple against one hand.

“Holy shit, Christophe.” Phichit placed a weak kiss against the part of Chris’ wrist he could reach conveniently without having to move any part of his body more than necessarily. “I should go travelling more often.”

“Don’t you dare.” Unbelievable but true, Chris’ arms could come around Phichit even closer.

They made it out of bed and over to Phichit’s place in time for dinner.

Siri did not comment on the fact that her brother had disappeared some time in the afternoon to say Hello to his boyfriend and only came back a couple of hours later. She gave Chris a hug and Phichit a dirty, knowing grin over the final dinner preparations she set him to, while she mixed Chris a red lime soda and told him to take a seat already and make himself at home.

She had started dinner while Phichit was out, raiding his fridge and pantry that Yuuri had stacked before their return from Berlin, had ventured out to explore what was to be her home for the next couple of weeks. She had found the small farmer’s market Yuuri had pointed out and bought fresh vegetables. Phichit couldn’t help but pull her into a hug when they stood side by side near the stove and he tried her pasta sauce with a Thai twist.

Chris went home after the movie they watched after dinner, but he came back the next day when they all gathered for Japanese night at Yuuri’s. Watching Siri in the kitchen with Yuuri where he taught her how to make Japanese curry and she soaked up every detail like a sponge made Phichit feel all warm and fuzzy inside for more reasons than he could count. He loved watching her open up to people, wishing for her to be as confident and spunky as she was with him and the rest of their family. And he loved that she had taken such a shine to Yuuri. Not that he could blame her, Yuuri was his best friend for a reason. Later, when they were eating and he caught her laughing over a something Chris said, Phichit knew that Yuuri was not the only one she had taken a shine to, and it made him feel happier than he thought he could stand.

When Phichit got up on Monday morning and stumbled into the living room he stopped short and rubbed his eyes. The sofa was already back to its normal state, the bedding neatly folded at the lower end. Siri was dressed and sitting at the kitchen table, scrolling through her phone.

“You’re up,” he stated the obvious. “Morning.”

“Morning.” She looked up and placed her phone on the table. “Coffee?”

“Don’t worry about it, I can make it. Why did you already make your bed?”

“I told you, I don’t want to be too much of an intrusion on your life.” She shrugged. It made him think of Yura and his constant replying to anything with a shrug, and it made him wonder whether he had shrugged so much as a sixteen-year-old too and simply couldn’t remember.

“Intrusion.” Phichit huffed affectionately and paused behind her chair for a moment on his way to the coffee maker to plant a kiss on top of her head. “You’re my baby sister. The best intrusion on my life I can think of.”

He moved on to the coffee machine, but when he cast her a sly look over his shoulder he could see she was blushing and grinning, bent instinctively lower over her phone and tapping with just that much more vigour.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Phichit was sitting at his desk going through the pictures he had taken in their flagship store in Milan.

Under the watchful eyes he cast to his right from time to time, Siri and Yura were sticking their heads together, looking at the same screen with Siri working the mouse. She had roped in Yura for the project Chris had appointed to her, and they were both being secretive about it. The presentation they were working on would reveal the nature of the project to everyone.

“And then… bam! This just slams in!” Yura was pointing at the screen.

“Um…”

Phichit smiled to himself while he zoomed into a picture on his screen, one ear on the conversation next to him. He could hear it in that one brief syllable. Siri was of a different opinion. He wondered if she would be able to bring herself to voice it, too. She had come so much out of her shell already, but Phichit noted the small instances when he knew she paused for breath. Had to wonder about herself. Phichit knew she had those moments when she suddenly felt scared of her own courage. Just like him.

“To be honest, nobody has been doing slide transitions like this anymore for at least ten years.”

A proud smile played around Phichit’s mouth as he pretended to focus on the task at hand, which was finding a way to edit out some people in the background of the picture that he didn’t want in there.

He heard Yura growl, and his snippy question of, “So what do you suggest we do for coolness then?”

Siri launched into an explanation of some effects or other she had been experimenting with back home. Phichit could hear the faint click-click of the mouse, and he was all but ready to swivel his chair around to see what was causing those sounds of impressed approval from Yura’s mouth when an email came in and the name of the sender sent instant chills across his back when it briefly popped up in the corner of his screen.

He went into his email and stared at the name of the sender for the longest time. It filled him with an awe thatmade his mind fog over with disbelief. But it was the subject that made his insides knot with a tension that lay like a rock in his stomach. And there was an attachment. It couldn’t be. It had to be spam. A million worries shot through his mind. Someone had found out he was seeing Chris and was sending him prank mails. The attachment were more compromising photos. Or a virus, and the moment he opened it, it would infiltrate the whole company and they would have to pay a shitload of money. And it would be his fault. And yet. If it wasn’t spam he could be in deep shit because he’d deleted it. So he stared and thought some more. Drummed his fingers on his desk until he heard the disapproving hissing from two mouths beside him and stopped. After another moment’s contemplation he forwarded the email to Leo with the question whether it was spam and he could delete it. Leo’s reply was immediate, telling him not to dare because it was as real as it could be and he’d better RSVP as soon as possible.

Heart beating in his throat, Phichit opened the attachment.

“Holy crap…” he muttered under his breath. He noticed the two heads turning his way, one blond, one black-haired. But he didn’t look back at them. His eyes were flitting across the colours and patterns blossoming to life all over his screen. He had to resize it to be able to see it fully. Golden swirls and flower patterns embellished a pastel green background in the centre of which a few lines of writing sat like forgotten artwork from an era long ago. The font was one of those Phichit had never used and only ever came across when he played around with fonts that had the most ancient sounding names.

He saw a date and a time. An RSVP at the bottom. A name, and he felt the somersault his heart performed over the name the letters made when strung together. He looked good, written in his elegant font. It suited him. A location. Phichit actually blinked. Read the name of the restaurant again, and almost whistled through his teeth. It was the fanciest place in the city. He would have to suit up.

And then it hit him.

_He_. Would have to suit up.

The plain truth of what he saw before him raised the massive fog of confusion and worries in his mind, leaving behind a much more real concern. Without thinking much about it, he opened the internal messenger and started typing.

**Phichit Chulanont**

**_online_ **

_does Lilia know???_

**Victor Nikiforov**

**_online_ **

_good morning to you too!_

_does Lilia know what?_

**Phichit Chulanont**

**_online_ **

_about me and Chris dating_

_did you tell her?_

**Victor Nikiforov**

**_online_ **

_most definitely not_

_have you asked Yura?_

_maybe he mentioned it accidentally at home?_

Phichit swung around to his right in his chair. He almost barked the words at Yura.

“Did you mention to Lilia or Yakov that Chris and I are dating? Does Lilia know?”

“No,” Yura said pointedly and let his gaze skim over the room in Phichit’s back. “But I dare say half of the IT crowd knows now, thanks to you blaring it out like that.”

“Like we didn’t know already,” someone muttered just out of sight and low enough that it was impossible to decipher who.

Phichit turned his chair back and started typing again.

**Phichit Chulanont**

**_online_ **

_Tiger says he didn’t say anything_

**Victor Nikiforov**

**_online_ **

_why is this such a concern all of a sudden?_

**Phichit Chulanont**

**_online_ **

_because I got an email from her with an invitation to some birthday dinner she is hosting for Chris??!!!_

**Victor Nikiforov**

**_online_ **

_oh! that!_

**Phichit Chulanont**

**_online_ **

_is this all you have to say about it?_

_why would she invite me?_

_unless she knows?_

**Victor Nikiforov**

**_online_ **

_she’s invited several people from work_

_Steph and Luca too_

**Phichit Chulanont**

**_online_ **

_but they’re on the same floor as you guys, that makes sense_

**Victor Nikiforov**

**_online_ **

_Leo is not on our floor and he’s invited_

_same as some of the guys from accounting who play pool with Chris_

_I think Sara might have had something to do with the guest list_

**Phichit Chulanont**

**_online_ **

_Sara!_

_I should have known!_

**Victor Nikiforov**

**_online_ **

_Phichit_

_you need to calm down_

Wow, Phichit thought. Victor already sounded like one of the guys. Yuuri, Leo or Guang Hong - they all would have given him the same reply in this situation.

**Victor Nikiforov**

**_online_ **

_just look at it this way: you’ll get to be with Chris on his birthday and enjoy a nice dinner_

Damn it, Phichit thought. He was right. He hadn’t really thought about Chris’ birthday so much. Hadn’t dared to think so far ahead, not wanting to jinx things. But they were just a week away now and everything was looking like he was going to spend Christophe Giacometti’s birthday, his boss and boyfriend’s birthday, with him. Suddenly he was glad he was sitting down, even if it was just in his office chair at work.

After another glance in Yura and Siri’s direction, finding them discussing the position of a cartoon, Phichit felt his heart in his throat when he clicked _Reply_ and confirmed his attendance at Lilia’s birthday dinner for Chris.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Two nights later Phichit was sitting on his sofa, looking fondly down where his legs were entangled with Chris’ goddamn long ones while he snuggled back in his arms and grinned to himself over the exasperated groan near his ear when the candidate on the quiz show they were watching picked the wrong answer. Two glasses of wine were sitting on the stylish glass coffee table, next to two plates that still bore remnants of cream and a couple of leftover chocolate shavings.

The TV held their attention just long enough until the quiz show was over. By the evening news Phichit had turned around and climbed into Chris’ lap, knees clamped around his thighs, while they were snogging and Chris’ hands were wandering from where he was fondling Phichit’s denim-clad arse one moment and then working their way underneath his shirt. They were doing such a good job of caressing his back in fact that Phichit felt it was time they levelled up and dug into his hips next. Chris had seemed a little pensive earlier when he’d arrived, but he seemed fine now, so Phichit relaxed. He knew there had been a meeting with the board of directors that day, which meant Chris had encountered his father. He hadn’t said much about it over dinner at Phichit’s kitchen table, only that his father seemed happy, relaxed almost, and how confusing Chris found this.

“Stay,” Phichit sighed between two kisses. “Stay the night. I promise I’ll let you out of bed early enough to go home and get changed for work in time.”

“I can shower and get changed at work if need be, that’s not the issue.”

Chris blinked. Phichit was living. He was cute!

“Then what is?” He pushed his hair out of his forehead, then nudged Chris’ face with his nose like a bunny asking to be petted.

“You’re a responsible adult with babysitting duties for a teenager,” Chris reminded him, one eyebrow raised.

“Oh.” Phichit let out a huff of relief. “Siri has a sleepover at Sara’s. They’re watching Germany’s Next Top Model. It’s the makeover episode. Lots of tears and yelling and Prosecco.”

Chris cocked his other eyebrow in surprise. “I feel honoured you chose to spend the evening with _me_ over joining them.”

Phichit’s grin turned cheeky as he swung himself off of Chris’ lap and the couch, looking down at him like a challenge. “You’d better make sure you show your appreciation of my grand sacrifice in an adequate way then, Christophe.”

For a brief moment, Chris closed his eyes as a deep breath of defeat wrung from his chest. Then he reached for the remote control, switched off the TV, and got up to follow Phichit to his bedroom.

“Jesus, Phichit, you’re dynamite in bed.”

Chris rolled himself off of him and quickly got rid of the condom before he fell on his back, panting heavily for a couple of moments as he tried to catch his breath. Phichit rose on one elbow beside him. How he could still be so agile after taking it out of the both of them, was beyond Chris’ comprehension, but then he was Phichit.

“You’re not too bad yourself.”

Chris froze. His eyebrows pulled together, something hit him out of nowhere. Those words. Where had he heard them before?

Phichit had frozen too. He stopped drawing patterns into the film of sweat covering Chris’ chest and clamped one hand over his mouth instead, realising what he had said. And suddenly Chris’ chest and throat felt so tight he thought he would never breathe again. A memory crawled up inside of him, hidden so well until now that he had no idea where it could possibly have been. It filled him with dread and poison and choked him from the inside.

“It was you.” He sat up very slowly. Looking nowhere but at Phichit’s face. “That person at the bar I came on to. It was _you_.”

Suddenly he was back inside a replay of the worst night of his entire life. And he wasn’t alone. Phichit was there too, he could see the whole kaleidoscope of memories and emotions on Phichit’s face.

“Why didn’t you ever say anything? I have so many blackouts from that night.” He didn’t mean for it to sound accusing, but it sounded like that to him. And to Phichit too, probably, because Phichit seemed flustered, and panicked, and bouncy even as he sat beside him in bed and looked at him with a mixture of horror and compassion and affection on his face. They blended into one sentiment for Chris.

Pity. And he couldn’t have that. Not from Phichit.

“Christophe…” Phichit’s voice was a little high-pitched, and a lot nervous. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”

“It does to me.” Chris shook his head. “I was… such a prick.”

“I thought you didn’t remember. I wanted it to stay like that, I didn’t want that between us on top of everything else! It wasn’t a good moment for the both of us!” Phichit talked quickly, his voice peaking on the odd word here and there.

Chris shook his head. He felt bile rise in his throat. Detached from himself, from the moment, he could see them, back at the bar, at the Christmas party. Hitting on the next best person like the total tool he had been that night. He swallowed, again, but nothing could force down the shame that filled him so well now that it wanted to overflow.

Phichit could see it. He could watch Chris slipping away from him with every minute that ticked by. He could see his boyfriend being consumed by guilt and shame and self-loathing like they were actual entities suddenly in the room with them, reaching for Chris with dark, wavering arms, dragging Chris away from him, out of his bed, his apartment, his life.

“Look, I know I said, not if you were the last man left on earth, but that was then…”

“No.” Chris shook his head, eyes lowered. “No. You were absolutely right. I’m so sorry. I… have to go.”

Chris looked at him again then, his eyes so full of love and wonder and sadness that the gaze from them pierced like an invisible ray and cut right through Phichit’s heart.

“How can you… look at me after that, leave alone touch me?” Chris asked. He didn’t sound angry. Just astonished.

Before Phichit could react Chris had moved. Brought the first barely noticeable centimetre between them.

And Phichit panicked. He panicked, and he felt angry, and he didn’t know how to fight invisible opponents that were trying to destroy what they had built, because they were coming from Chris himself.

“Chris…” he started again, using the abbreviated version of his name without thinking and instantly hating himself when he saw the tricks that played on Chris’ mind and confirmed all his fears.

“I don’t deserve you.”

He said it with a sad smile, and retreated further, swung his legs out of bed. His arms slipped from Phichit’s desperate touch as he got up and started to pick up his clothes from Phichit’s bedroom floor and get dressed.

Phichit shook his head. Tried to shake off the paralysis of what was happening, and the sudden memories that surged up in him. He had always promised himself he would never do that, he reminded himself. He would never embarrass himself so much and cry and cling to a partner who seemed determined to walk out on him. But damn, he had never been this close. Chris was different. Everything about and with him was so fucking different, and here and now Phichit was at his wits’ end. He felt stunned, couldn’t believe what was happening. He had thought he had seen Chris at his worst and was able to handle him, but he was helpless, confronted with this version, could only stare with disbelief how the man he loved shrank away and shrivelled and was eaten up by things he had said in the past and couldn’t forgive himself for, no matter the fact that everyone else already had.

“I’m sorry.”

Chris looked sad when he paused in front of the bed and reached down with one hand to brush his fingertips over Phichit’s cheek.

“Wait!” Phichit stared up at him with wide eyes. “You can’t just walk out like this…”

But Chris looked in such pain that Phichit shut up, and knew he would give him time if this was what he needed now. Chris had given Phichit time, too, when he had needed it. He could do this, Phichit reasoned with himself. He could be patient. They had gone through other things already and made it. If only it hadn’t hurt so much, seeing Chris so sad.

“Don’t go,” Phichit pleaded. “I don’t think you should be alone right now. Let me…”

Chris shook his head. Another sad smile that pinned Phichit in place where he was, sitting naked in his bed with his blanket wound around his waist, condemned to watch Chris leave. He heard the front door shut so softly that he could almost wish it wasn’t happening, that Chris would be there in his living room when he stepped outside, shaking his head and apologising for a momentary lapse into weakness. But in his heart Phichit knew he was alone. For it was shattered and incomplete and only pieces of it were left here while other pieces weren’t.

Phichit stared at his bedroom door that had closed behind Chris. “You fucking idiot!” he yelled, even though he knew that Chris was gone.

None of the messages Phichit sent that night were read.

All calls went straight to voicemail.

But he received a text message at half past two in the morning.

**_Christophe_ **

_You’re too good for me. I don’t deserve you, I think I never did._

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

All the lights were off in Chris’ house except for the one in his small gym, where the spotlight was merciless and the music deafening. He was hammering onto the punching ball, ignoring the screaming pains in his shoulders and knuckles, and in his lungs. He hadn’t taped his hands, just slipped on the gloves. From time to time he took one off to take a swig from the bottle of vodka he had found in his freezer. It wasn’t the shrieks of his body in agony that made him stop but the fact that his vision became too blurry and he very nearly knocked himself out with the punching ball swinging back. He managed to stop it just in time. Managed to slip off the gloves and switch off the music. To stumble from the room and into the shower, not letting go of the bottle even there. He drank in the shower, desperate to drive poison out with poison. Inside, he was screaming, burning where his heart was ripped open and bleeding where he himself had torn a huge chunk out of it because he felt he didn’t deserve it, and now he was trying to cauterise the wound with spirit.

He didn’t sleep that night. His demons kept him awake, slithering up to him under the blanket where he curled himself around the bits of what he thought was good in his life. He could hear them laughing at his pathetic attempts to escape them, and what a fool he had been to believe they had ever really gone.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“Phichit? Can I have a word?”

He looked up from his computer screen when he heard Sara’s voice. She was standing in the door to her office, motioning with her head for him to come inside. He rose slowly from his seat, brows drawn together as he thought about what mediocre work he had presented her with this morning that would make her call him into her office. Sara didn’t usually stand on ceremony. She burst out of her room and came to talk to people directly, or called from inside, and her door was always open.

The moment Phichit stepped into her office she closed the door and leaned with her back against it from the inside. It made his discomfort grow, and his eyebrows climb suspiciously high.

“What’s going on?” He took a deep breath and tried to look nonchalant. The he remembered something and his stance became defensive. “Look, I know that caption I chose for the new picture came across a little bitter, I’m sorry! I’m going to rewrite it.”

“I’m not talking about the caption. What happened with Chris?”

“I… don’t know what you mean?” he said carefully.

Sara threw up her hands dramatically and rolled her eyes.

“I saw him this morning and he looked like hell. He was as cranky as I haven’t seem him for a long, long time, and his eyes were red.”

Phichit flinched a little at those last words. They hurt. He should have gone over to his house last night.

“So?”

He leaned involuntarily back in his hip when Sara came to stand right in front on him, arms crossed, her face so close to his that he thought he could see actual thunderclouds in her violet eyes.

Phichit sighed and took a tentative step back. Another one, but Sara and her determination didn’t appear one bit further. At last he squared his shoulders and turned around to face her.

“He remembered something from the Christmas party.” His words sounded like defeat to himself.

“What was it?” Something like compassion flickered across the thunderclouds.

Phichit realised Sara didn’t know. Nobody knew. Only his father. He had kept this moment to himself.

“He hit on me?” He turned the visitor’s chair in front of her desk around and slumped down in it.

Sara’s jaw dropped.

“When was _that_?!” She walked around the chair he sat in and perched on the corner of her desk, facing him.

Phichit took a deep breath before he launched into the whole messy story.

“I never told him because things were going so well,” he concluded with a sigh. “I didn’t want to ruin everything by dragging up that night again. He was… so changed. I didn’t want to make him feel like that again. Despairing of himself.”

Sara leaned forward and ran one hand through his hair. Phichit felt reminded of his older sister.

She breathed audibly in and out when she leaned back. “Phichit, I know you’re probably pissed off because he chickened out like that and ran…”

Phichit’s head shot up. “You bet I am! I thought we were past that. I feel like we’re back to square one.”

“His demons found him again.” It sounded almost dramatic. “I don’t want to tell you what to do, but… you’re not planning on giving up so easily, are you?”

“ _Easily!_ ” Phichit snorted.

“And I suppose he didn’t answer the phone, didn’t reply to any messages?”

“No.” He shook his head.

“ _Stronzo!_ ” Sara muttered.

“I should have just gone to his house like I was thinking about last night.” Phichit pulled a face. “It’s not like I didn’t get him to open the door to me before when he was trying to hide and I wasn’t having it.”

“Oh no, _no!_ ” Sara exclaimed, and she sounded like a strict Italian mamma. “Don’t you dare take any of the blame! Chris decided to PMS out of the blue, he decided to be an idiot and run away because he believes he doesn’t deserve any of the good things in life. That’s completely on him, not on you. You’ve been a saint, and I’m using that term very loosely, Phichit Chulanont, because I know you.”

A smile passed between them.

“He needs his butt kicked to snap out of it. But I guess you know that by now, do you?”

“Yeah. I just… want to give him the time he seems to need.”

“I don’t know if he deserves you, Phichit. But I wish for it with all my heart. He was so happy lately. I missed him being happy, so much.”

Phichit nodded. He got up from the seat and leaned over for a quick hug, feeling that she needed it more than he did. Then he left her office and went back to his desk, seeking distraction in work.

Chris didn’t get in touch all day. Phichit stayed longer, long after he had sent Siri home with Leo.

It was already dark outside when Phichit decided he had given him enough time. He shut down his computer, put on his coat and slipped his bag over his shoulder. Then he left newsroom via the glass door on the opposite end of the corridor. He couldn’t possibly wait for the lift now. He had waited long enough.

Phichit ran up the three sets of stairs, emotions carrying him like fuel. On the top floor he burst into the hallway and without bothering to knock, threw open the door to Chris’ office and stormed inside.

“Don’t _ever_ do that again!” He knew he was shouting. He didn’t care. “Don’t ever just leave again and then don’t answer your phone or reply to text messages! I was worried sick, you… _idiot!_ ”

Behind his desk, Chris very slowly put down the pen he had been holding. He really did look like shit, Phichit noticed with a mixture of affection and satisfaction. He really had no time for this now. He slipped his bag from his shoulder and placed it carefully on the smaller table near the door. Then he shook off his coat and threw it over a chair before he walked over towards the desk and came to stand right in front of it, hands braced on the polished wood as he looked Chris straight in the eyes.

“ _You_ don’t get to decide whether you’re good enough for me, _I_ do!!!”

For a moment they stared at each other, too much to feel swinging between them.

“And I have decided!” Phichit’s voice was still way too loud. He still didn’t care.

But the heavy table became too wide for him, the chair on the other side too far away. He straightened up and walked around the desk, until he had rounded it and was standing right in front of Chris’ chair. Chris turned in his chair to face him. At least that, Phichit thought as relief flooded him, and so much longing. The worst kind of longing was the one for a person right in front of you and still out of reach.

“I have decided,” he repeated, quieter this time. With as much meaning as he could muster. “I chose _you_. I want _you_. I don’t care whether we deserve each other, I think that’s bullshit. I want to be with you, I want you to have that. I give it freely. You cannot decide whether you deserve it. I _know_ we do, we both do. We deserve this. Us. We are good together, Christophe, and you know it. We deserve this us.”

His chest was heaving with agitation and he was out of breath.

He was looking down at Chris, sitting like frozen in his chair and looking up at him with eyes that held a million emotions. They moved at the same time, Chris reaching for him like Phichit took the last step towards him until he was as close as he possibly could be, bumping knees with Chris while he wrapped his arms around him and pressed Chris’ face against his chest. Phichit bent his back into the desperate grasp of Chris’ arms around his middle.

“I wanted to kill you when you came on to me that night.” Phichit started talking softly, underlining every word with equally soft caresses of his fingers through the blond curls on top of Chris’ head. “For _months_ I’d been hoping for a moment like that! Because I’m the kind of idiot who has daydreams. You know, the kind of daydreams where in every situation you let your mind run free, you wish for your stupid crush to show up out of nowhere and be totally smitten and buy you a drink. And then when it happened, you were pissed out of your head and so toxic, I wanted to rip your fucking head off. You literally ruined _everything_ that evening.”

He could barely hear Chris’ voice, muffled where he was hiding his face against the front of his shirt. But he felt the desperate, heartfelt apology in the way his arms tightened around him.

“I didn’t tell you about that moment because I was hoping you wouldn’t remember. I’m sorry I kept it from you. I didn’t want you to feel like shit again, and I didn’t want to be reminded of it. It was a sore memory for both of us, I just wanted to forget about it.”

He eased his embrace when he felt Chris moving, just enough so that he could look up at Phichit.

“Remember when we said ‘only truths between us’?”

Phichit nodded. He wanted to say so many things, but they all got stuck in his throat. So he talked with his hands instead, caressed every inch of skin before he cupped Chris’ face with both hands and bent down for a kiss.

“Next time your demons find you, don’t you dare walk away. Let me kick their ass!” Phichit told him.

“I promise not to walk away.” Chris held his gaze. “But _I_ have to kick their ass.”

“Okay. But I get to cheer you on. Front row seats.”

“Okay.” Chris nodded, and their mouths found each other again.

Their breaths were hungry, their kisses loud and wet in the small confinement of the shower cabin. Legs clamped around his waist, Phichit chuckled against Chris’ shoulder.

“What?” Chris leaned over him, one hand braced on the tiles to the right of Phichit’s head.

“Nothing.” Phichit had to tilt back his head to see his face. He squinted against the water pelting down into his eyes.

“Phichit.” Chris sounded only half patient. “When my boyfriend starts laughing while I’m trying my damned best to give him a good time, I can’t help but worry that I’m doing something wrong.”

“No, it’s just… I’ve been kind of wanting to make out in this fancy bathroom up here forever.”

Chris’ eyes widened. Then he started laughing. Phichit could feel it reverberating in every inch of his body. And Chris’ body too, and he moaned softly into the feeling of being joined.

A short time and more erratic movements later Phichit winced.

“Ouch… fuck! This shower is tiny.” He rubbed the back of his head where’d he banged it against the shower fitting.

“Want to move this to the couch in my office?” Chris rasped against his skin.

“Don’t you dare! I’m currently in the middle of living out one of my fantasies here, remember?” Phichit groaned into the next thrust, his hands frantically searching for something to hold on to as their movements picked up speed and urgency.

Later they couldn’t say how it happened. All of a sudden the faucet that regulated the shower was in Phichit’s hand. Every attempt at putting it back on failed, almost as if a small part was missing that would have held it in place. The shower was still running and they couldn’t turn it off.

Chris stepped out of the shower, hands in his hips. “What did you do?”

“What did _I_ do?” Still in the shower, Phichit glared at him and the impertinent question.

“You were holding on to the damn thing!”

“ _You_ were banging me into the shower wall!” Phichit took a couple of deep, hysterical breaths. “And you should probably have spent some more money on better quality faucets in your rich bitch office bathroom.”

“Okay! Okay.” He ran one hand through his wet hair, pushed it aside where it was plastered to his face. “We need to switch off the main. Where’s the main?”

“I… have no idea.” Chris blushed. All the way down his neck and chest too. It was fascinating to watch when he was naked. Except that Phichit couldn’t really appreciate the sight just now because he was freaking out.

“Oh my god, Christophe, you are hopeless!”

“That’s why I have the most efficient secretary there is. Call Yuuri! Yuuri will know where the main is.”

“ _Yuuri_ will want to know _why_ I’m asking, and he won’t tell me until I ‘fess up. Would _you_ like to explain to him that you fucked me so good that I ripped the bloody faucet off the fitting??”

Chris’ shocked face was answer enough. Then he shook his head. “What kind of best friend asks for reasons in an emergency? Victor would help me out first and then, perhaps, ask questions! But probably not because he would just look at me and pitifully shake his head and say, ‘Chris… I don’t think I want to know.’”

“Then call Victor! Does he know where the main is?” Phichit asked hopefully.

“I highly doubt it.”

“Crap.” Phichit’s palm connected with the shower wall. There was a splashing sound where the shower water hit the tiles, and a small spray of droplets flew off the wall and into Phichit’s face. “CRAP!”

Chris was watching him from where was standing in the middle of the bathroom. When Phichit looked up he saw the glimmer in his eyes, and the treacherous twitching in the corner of his mouth. Phichit tried. He really did. But when their eyes met, it became painfully obvious to him that he was at the end of his wits. It was absurd. This whole situation was absurd. They were standing in the fancy office bathroom on the management floor of their workplace, naked, dripping wet, and the shower under which they had been having sex when they broke it was still running because they couldn’t turn it off.

Chris fought valiantly and managed to hold back until the first bubble of laughter escaped from between Phichit’s tightly clamped lips. Then he burst out laughing. And then Phichit did, too. It echoed all around them in the tiled bathroom, the sound of the running water so loud as if the shower was mocking them and they were laughing in its face. Eventually Chris reached for the pile of towels and handed two to Phichit who had finally stepped out from under the running water. Out of reach of the shower they dried themselves as best as they could, collecting items of clothing on the way to Chris’ office, where they got dressed again, then continued rubbing their hair with towels.

Chris sat down at his desk and picked up the phone to call the reception in the foyer downstairs.

“Good evening, Lawrence, it’s Chris.” He looked sheepish as he spoke to the night security guard on duty. “Lawrence… do you know where the main water supply is to turn off the water in the bathroom up here? And could you please find me an emergency plumbing service? Never mind the cost, just get someone here as soon as possible… Thank you.”

Phichit slumped down sideways on a chair near the smaller table where he had placed his bag.

“We will never tell anyone about this,” he said.

“Never,” Chris agreed.

“Even though it was the most memorable make up sex ever.”

“Even then.”

They looked at their phones for a couple of minutes. Then Phichit looked up again.

“Not even Yuuri and Victor!”

“Not even them.” Chris nodded.

Lawrence, with the experience of man who had worked for the Giacometti family for a long, long time, did not seem the least bit surprised when he showed up on the top floor with a plumber half an hour later. By then Phichit had found the main and turned the water off, and they were sitting in Chris’ office, Phichit on one of the chairs by the smaller table scrolling through his phone, Chris behind his desk with his tablet in front of him. Lawrence looked back and forth between the both of them a couple of times, took in their damp hair, and most certainly the way they blushed under his gaze like schoolchildren caught in the act of some mischief.

“Go home, boys.” He nodded at the bathroom, where it was eerily silent now that the water had stopped running. “I’ve got this. I don’t think there’s anything you can do to help.”

They looked at each other. Then Phichit rose from his seat and slipped his phone in his back pocket.

On their way out, Chris leaned in to speak very quietly to their security guard.

“Lawrence, can you make sure the invoice goes to me, personally. Not the company.”

“Of course.” He was trying very hard not to smirk, Chris could see it.

“And this is of course…”

“Strictly confidential.” Lawrence patted Chris on the back in a fatherly manner. “Go home and get a hot drink in you.”

Phichit was holding the lift door open for him. The moment the door closed and their eyes met they started laughing again. Their hands slipped into each other, and they didn’t let go until they were in Phichit’s car and he needed both of his hands to drive.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

On Chris’ birthday, Phichit dropped by his house after work to give him his present before they would see each other at dinner. Chris’ got a little teary-eyed when he read the card Phichit had included with his gift, and then Phichit teared up, and they ended up cuddling up on their favourite couch until an alarm went off on Phichit’s phone. He had set it just in case, and now he knew he had been right.

“I have to go,” Phichit tore himself away with a sigh. “Get changed and tarted up.”

He scrambled off the couch. Chris followed him to the door and helped him into his coat.

“I suppose my feather boa would violate the dress code for that place, huh?” Phichit grinned as he leaned up for a kiss.

“Just a little. But perhaps you could wear it for me later? In private?” Chris chuckled.

Phichit tilted his head. “I’ll think about it.”

“And I seem to remember hot pants and a mesh top being mentioned…”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“But it’s my birthday…”

Puppy eyes! Phichit felt a little weak in the knees when he stole one last kiss. “See you tonight.”

“Looking forward to it, Mr Chulanont.” Chris opened the door for him.

“Likewise, Mr Giacometti.” Phichit left with a wink and a little wave.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Phichit arrived with Yuuri, Victor and Leo at the restaurant. He was immediately in awe when they walked through the door that was held open by a uniform-clad staff member. A small foyer held a bar lining two walls. It was where they gathered for a champagne apéritif. Phichit twisted the stem of the glass in his hand as he looked around. It was absolutely not his style, all heavy carpets and dark wood and an opulence of golden decorations that looked outdated since at least two hundred years, and yet it was impressive. Everyone seemed to think so. Conversations were respectfully hushed, even the clink of glasses when brought together for a toast sounded quiet and elegant.

When the woman walked in and looked around the room, their eyes met for a moment. Phichit felt the hair in the back of his neck stand on end. He averted his gaze, his eyes darting around, to where Chris was talking to Steph and Luca, his back turned to the door until Luca, looking past him towards the entrance, leaned in to mutter something very quietly that made Chris turn around.

Time seemed to freeze for a moment, and tension suddenly spun through the air. Phichit watched Chris, he couldn’t not watch him, couldn’t not follow his gaze to the door, to the woman, no, women. Because it was only now that Phichit realised she was not alone but in the company of a very beautiful younger woman about their age. Nausea tangled in his stomach. He tried to down it with champagne, and nodded more than gratefully when a waiter appeared immediately by his side to take his empty glass from him and replace it with a new one.

By now several people had noticed the tall woman by the door and the way she looked at Chris.

Phichit tingled all over with beginning hysteria with every moment that past in rising anticipation.

Finally Chris took one step, his face expressing a hardness Phichit knew was reserved for the toughest business partners, the ones every meeting was a nuisance with. But before he could take another step, the hard clack-clack of heels resounded through the foyer, and the woman, who had made a first step of her own in his direction, found her way blocked by Lilia.

Everyone in the room collectively held their breath.

“Good evening, Constanze.” Lilia smiled, but it was a smile of ice, and her gaze was steel. “Can we have a word outside, please?”

With everyone’s eyes on them, there was nothing she could do but smile back at Lilia, and nod.

Outside, the woman pulled her faux fur coat tighter around herself. The young woman who was with her looked quite frightened back and forth between the two of them. Lilia cast her an almost pitiful smile as if to say, ‘I know it’s not your fault.’ It was a cold night, yet Lilia, who only wore a pashmina shawl over her elegant evening dress, didn’t seem to feel the cold.

She was staring down Chris’ mother.

“You have to go,” she said simply.

“Lilia.” She smiled at her with a friendship that went back many years. Husbands building a company. Raising boys who were best friends. “It’s his birthday.”

“This is not why you’re here.” Lilia nodded towards the younger woman. “You still haven’t given up this foolish idea that you can marry him off. Now more than ever. It’s the only thing you still have.”

A painful expression rushed across Chris’ mother’s face. “He’s my son.”

“He’s your hope to remain in your circles,” Lilia shook her head. “How can you do this to him? To come here with this girl and expect him to marry her. He told you so many times that he won’t. It’s none of our business who they love, or who they marry. We support their decisions.”

“But what if they make the wrong decisions?”

“Then they fall and we help them get up again. They do stupid things. We forgive them, because they’re ours.”

“I want grandchildren.” Green eyes hardened. “You don’t know what it’s like, Lilia.”

“It’s not impossible. They have other means. Adoption. Surrogacy.” Every word of Lilia’s was like whiplash.

A taxi pulled up beside them, two woman getting out who looked at them curiously.

They did not pay them any attention.

“But—” Chris’ mother started, but Lilia cut her off.

“It’s not a matter of the blood! You insult me even saying something like this to _me_ of all people. You should be ashamed of yourself. This is not what a mother does. Side with your husband against your child. Love for your husband is good, it’s important. But love for your child comes first. And now I kindly ask you to leave. This is a private dinner party I am hosting, and you are not welcome here.”

“Yuuri!” Inside, Phichit tugged frantically on Yuuri’s sleeve. “That’s his mother! She has his eyes. Did you see the way she looked at me? She knows! She knows it’s me he’s dating. She looked like she wanted to kill me.”

“She did not, Peach.” Yuuri rolled his eyes.

“Yuuri!” Phichit’s voice peaked a little. “Okay, maybe not kill me. But hurt me, at least.”

“Phichit! That woman would have to get past _me_ to hurt you. _Nobody_ gets past me to hurt you!”

Sara almost fell in through the door at this moment, Mila on her heel, muttering “Oh shit, oh _shit_!”, just as Victor returned from where he had been talking to an acquaintance he had spotted at the further end of the bar and missed all the excitement, as it turned out.

“Oh my god, Victor!” Sara almost pounced on him.

“Are you alright, darling?” He supported her with one arm when she seemed a little unsteady on her heels.

“Chris’ mother is outside!”

Victor’s eyes narrowed as his head whipped around to the door.

“Yes! She brought that naive girl again, you know, the one she’s wanted Chris to date forever!”

“Fucking hell, does that girl not have a mind and a spine of her own?” Victor rolled his eyes. Then he almost looked like a child at the sight of Father Christmas. “Oh please, Sara, please tell me Yakov stepped in and kicked them out!”

“Actually, Lilia did.”

“Really?”

“She picked her apart, Victor, it was marvellous.”

“That’s my Mama!”

Lilia stalked in through the door at this very moment, and everyone froze. Victor looked caught. In almost thirty years and many names he’d called her, he had never called her _that_.

A life spiralled into invisible existence between them, too full for the small restaurant foyer.

She got him his very first library pass at the age of five and never said no when he asked for more books. She made him chicken soup and herbal wraps when he was sick. She always came and opened his bedroom door to leave it ajar so that he could see the strip of light from the hallway when Yakov put him to bed and closed the door, forgetting that Victor needed to see just a small bit of light in the night to know he was not alone.

She silenced every teacher who ever gave him unjustified trouble with one stare and a few selected crisp words. She grounded him for mischief he got into with Chris more times he could count. She taught him manners and a politeness that seemed chivalrous nowadays. She made him help around the house from a very early age so that it was the most natural thing in the world for him. And she didn’t let him move out from home before she had installed in him what she regarded as the three basic requirements for any young man to live on his own: clean a bathroom, iron a shirt, and cook seven healthy meals from scratch, one for every day of the week.

She was the only mother Victor could remember. He loved her with a fierce protectiveness, adoration and gratitude, and he was absolutely terrified of her.

“Took you long enough,” she said curtly and stalked off with that ramrod ballerina’s grace that was installed in her for life.

Victor saw her leaning against Yakov a short time later, back not straight for once, their heads stuck together with more affection than they’d ever shown in public.

When their table was ready, they made their way from the bar into the restaurant. Phichit sat down beside Yuuri. He was just reaching for the glass of water in front of him, eyes wandering around the table, when he noticed Lilia was looking at him sharply. He would have been lying if he’d said it didn’t send a shiver down his spine.

“What are you doing over there, Mr. Chulanont? Your seat is here.” She nodded towards the head of the table. “Next to Christophe.”

Phichit’s jaw dropped. He felt Yuuri nudge his thigh urgently under the table.

“Better go over there, Phichit,” Victor grinned. “Don’t make my Mama mad.”

“Vitya!” Lilia’s voice immediately made Victor sit up straighter. “Stop this! You’re making Yakov cry.”

Yakov did indeed look a little funny, Phichit noticed when he pushed out his chair and moved along to sit down in the empty seat to Chris’ right, next to Sara, opposite Steph and Luca. Lilia nodded, satisfied. Then she signalled the waiters to bring out another round of champagne and brought out a toast to Chris.

It was a perfect evening. The food was outstanding, as was to be expected from a Michelin star chef, but apart from that, the whole atmosphere was relaxed and cheerful. Chris seemed to have left the initial shock over his mother showing up unexpectedly behind rather quickly. Phichit had overheard him talking to Lilia when she apologised to him in case he had wanted to see his mother after all, and Chris had assured her that first of all it was her dinner party and her guests and she could kick out whomever she wanted, and second, that he would have sent her walking too, not wanting her to spoil his birthday for him.

“So Steph, Luca, how are the wedding preparations coming along?” Phichit asked them over dessert.

“Oh.” They looked at each other, then back at him. “Two lawyers drawing up their own prenup… it’s taking a while.”

Laughter rang around the table. Lilia had picked a wholesome assembly of people, with Sara’s input. Even though they were a larger group there were no smaller conversations here or there, no grouping off. They all joined in the conversation, shared the stories and the laughs.

Under the table, Phichit felt for Chris’ hand.

He wondered whether Chris was aware of how much he was cherished and respected by every single person at their table. Those who were not his childhood or parental friends very obviously valued him not only as a boss but had known other sides of him, the real him, for years. And liked him, with that sometimes exasperated affection you feel for someone you love who gets into stupid mischief from time to time. 

“Where’s your sister tonight?” Steph asked Phichit.

Phichit exchanged a grin with Leo. “At home playing Monster Hunter with Guang Hong while they’re sitting everyone’s dogs.”

“She’s quite a whirlwind once she’s overcome her initial shyness,” one of Chris’ pool buddies from accounting threw in.

“She’s a Chulanont.” Chris grinned into his glass before he took a sip of champagne.

Phichit felt himself blushing. Under the table, Chris squeezed his hand. Phichit squeezed back.

Later, everyone said their goodbyes outside the restaurant.

Chris was holding Lilia’s hands in his as he thanked her profusely for dinner. Watching them, Phichit had to think about those evenings when they were little boys again that Chris had mentioned. By now Victor had dug up some photos, showing the two of them in their little towel robes and with their neatly combed wet hair. Even in those photos, on Lilia’s couch, Chris had been under her protection. And he still was today.

“We’re not going home yet,” Chris was just telling her.

“It’s okay. We know you young folk want to go out… clubbing.” She said it like it was a contagious disease. But she pulled him into a hug. It looked like Yura’s hugs, Phichit thought, stiff and a little awkward, like they were lacking hugging practise. But Yakov, too, gave Chris something resembling a hug, before he held the door of their taxi open for Lilia.

“Right,” Chris said when it was just the younger one amongst them left. “Next stop: dance floor.”

They ended up in their usual club again, securing seats by the bar before most of them hit the dance floor. It felt like something was shifted into the right place since the last time they had been here, Phichit thought. He was back on the same dance floor, and he let his eyes skim the crowd, but he would always have picked Chris again from among all these people. He tried to compare him to other guys around them, and sure enough there were some babes among them. But even if he hadn’t known him Phichit would have gone for the tall, blond babe with the undercut, the one in the tailor-made black suit who had the best moves and goddamn long legs. They had left their ties somewhere by the bar, suit jackets unbuttoned, and when one of the songs from 80s Night came on, Phichit’s déjà vu was complete.

Except this time they were not staying on their respective sides of their friends casting stolen glances.

This time they touched. This time Chris pulled him close and spun him around. This time, Phichit knew all his secrets. This time, he sang along because Chris did, and it made him laugh because he was so happy he didn’t know what else to do with all these feelings.

_My heart starts missing a beat, every time…_

He felt the words as he sang them along, loved how well they matched on a dance floor. He had guessed as much, that he would be able to share this with Chris like he did with his best friends, one of his favourite things to do in life, living music, but experiencing it now gave Phichit a feeling of being at home. 

Chris pulled him close and their bodies collided, and they became still while the world around them kept dancing, but their eyes and heartbeats shared a moment, as their foreheads rested together and they smiled around the words of the song like they were meant only for them.

_I’m in love with you, I mean what I say, I’m in love with you, and you don’t know what it means to be with you…_

Phichit’s heart was already beating fast in time with the song, but it positively flipped over when the song ended and a new one began and it was as familiar as breathing was to him or drumming his fingers on his desk. Chris was watching him, expectant as if he knew, and he cupped Phichit’s cheek for a moment, living up to the words Phichit knew so well that they might as well be the beats of his heart.

_I can't breathe when you're gone… Yes I'm deeply in love… Be my Valentine every single day of my life_

We’re doing this the wrong way round, Phichit thought, when Chris kissed him, right there on the crowded dance floor, and only then did they dance. He would need to ask him if he secretly danced to his favourite song, because his moves were perfect. It was the best feeling in the world that Phichit could imagine. The guy he was in love with could dance, and he knew all the words to his favourite song. He laughed when he caught him singing along, the ‘I can’t wait to see you glow’ he felt drumming in every cell of his body. He had wanted this, see Chris glowing, and now he did, and it was more beautiful than he could have imagined.

By the bar, Yuuri and Victor were watching them, leaning close together and smiling.

“They look good together,” Victor said, nodding thanks at the barkeeper when took his drink from him.

“They do. I didn’t know Chris could dance,” Yuuri remarked, surprise still visible on his face.

“You don’t know a lot of things about Chris, my darling. I can’t wait for you to really get to know him…”

Yuuri cocked one eyebrow like in warning.

“I mean, as a friend,” Victor hastened to add, flustered.

Yuuri burst out laughing. It was still so easy to wind Victor up like this, teasing a little about the bet. Over time, Yuuri hoped it would become easier and lighter, something they would be able to consider nothing less than the twisted starting point of their love story. Victor’s eyes flashed with something that told Yuuri he would probably have to pay for his cheek later. He couldn’t wait.

“It’s Phichit’s favourite song.” Yuuri’s head came to rest against Victor’s shoulder as they watched.

“They’re at _that_ stage already?” Victor sounded definitely amused. He knew how sacred music was to Phichit. Though he wondered if Phichit really already knew the full extent of how sacred music was to _Chris_.

“I told him,” Yuuri admitted. He felt Victor go still beside him. “Before we talked and after I knew for sure they were seeing each other, I might have... casually dropped the info in his office when I caught him listening to it.”

Yuuri looked up when there was no reaction. Victor was still looking at the dance floor, but there was a huge, happy and perhaps a little proud smile on his face. Content, Yuuri leaned his head back against Victor’s shoulder. He smiled when he felt the slight shift of Victor’s head so that he could place a kiss in Yuuri’s hair.

Moments later Victor coughed up a mouthful of gin&tonic.

“Are _they_ doing the flashmob dance moves?” he asked, staring wide-eyed.

“They are,” Yuuri replied, his eyes on the dance floor. He slid off his seat before Phichit had fully turned around, reading his best friend’s body language and, more than anything, knowing him inside out. Phichit had just arranged the other dancers in as much of a formation as he could, but Yuuri knew the ordeal - getting as many people as possible to dance to his favourite song when he had the chance was a matter of the heart for Phichit, and his one consolation for having missed out on the opportunity to be part of the actual event in one of the European locations. Leo was already there, dancing, because that’s what they did for each other.

“Yuuri! Get up here!” Phichit’s voice wasn’t meant to carry across the music but then perhaps Yuuri would have heard it anywhere, and wouldn’t have needed ears for it, either.

“Sorry.” Yuuri grinned at Victor and handed him his glasses. “Best friend duties.”

He ran one hand through his hair and then up the stairs, beaming at Phichit like Phichit was beaming at him, and they took their places and danced along with everyone else. The moves came so easy to them, it was obvious they had done this a million times before, just one more matching piece in the puzzle that was the friendship of Yuuri & Phichit & Leo & Guang Hong.

“Phichit is on fire,” Yuuri came round for a drink a couple of songs later. “I haven’t seen him this buzzed for the longest time.” He took Victor’s water and drank up almost the whole contents. Victor ran one hand through his hair, damp and tousled now, the most adorable messy mop of hair Victor could imagine.

“What’s the name of that Bollywood song, my darling? Not the one you performed to, the other one.”

“You mean the one you chickened out of dancing with me?” Yuuri grinned, but his cheeks coloured red.

“That one, yes. The one with the rap mixed in.”

“Hip hop. Not rap.”

Victor made a dismissive gesture with his hands and the face to go with it, to indicate that he really couldn’t care less about either.

Yuuri cocked his head. “Why?”

Victor’s smile became wide and heart-shaped. “Best friend duties.”

Yuuri’s smile became endless, his eyes dancing when he stole a quick kiss and told Victor he would request it from the DJ.

The shirt was sticking to his back when Chris slipped on the bar seat beside Victor. He had danced almost non-stop since they had arrived, and he was sorely craving a drink now, or twelve. Phichit was still dancing, Yuuri back up with him now and Leo, Sara and Mila.

A new song began just as Chris nodded thanks at the barkeeper for the glass of champagne, and Chris lowered the drink in his hand as his head swung around to look at Victor. But Victor had turned around on his seat already, leaning against the bar with his back, eyes on the dancers but the knowing smile twitching in the corner of his mouth was just for Chris, and Chris knew it. A woman’s voice wound from the speakers, luring and almost spiritual in a language they didn’t understand but which didn’t seem to bother the people up on the crowded dance floor. Two of them in particular, Chris noticed when he turned around too, the polished chrome of the bar hitting his spine with sobering cold through his shirt as he leaned back against it.

“Is that...” he started and fell quiet right away because the beat kicked in and with it the sense of déjà vu, not one, but two of them.

“Happy birthday, Chris.” Victor smiled and held up his glass. The easy, affectionate comfort of many birthdays spent like this swung in the cheerful clink of glasses, firm like the ice in Victor’s gin&tonic, vibrant like the bubbles pearling in Chris’ champagne.

They brought their glasses to their mouths like synchronised choreography, turned their heads away from each other and towards the dance floor as if they had practiced it many times before.

Up on the dance floor, elevated like a stage, Yuuri and Phichit seemed overjoyed to hear one of their favourite songs. They sang along every single word, whether it was a man or a woman singing in Hindi or hip hop in English, their moves a mash of dancing and Bollywood elements thrown in and much goofing around. They looked happy.

Chris knew they were, and so was he, sitting by the bar with Victor beside him. Victor, who had given him the best birthday present. He had given him that moment again - the two of them sitting at the bar like they had months ago, watching Phichit and Yuuri on the dance floor and knowing that they were _theirs_.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

They stumbled in at four in the morning, climbed the stairs not just hand in hand but touching wherever they could reach, unable they keep their hands off each other. Their clothes came off with an eagerness that was unexpected and welcome, and they fell on the bed already entangled, gripping, clawing, feeling wherever they could reach.

“Christophe.” There was an urgency in Phichit’s voice, in the way he knelt on the bed and reached for him with both hands, with needy hot fingers that made Chris feel needed like he had never been before.

He inched closer on his own knees until they were facing each other and he sat back, pulling Phichit into his lap. Phichit followed without hesitation. When he spoke, Chris felt a sudden difficulty to stay sitting upright because like a tree, Phichit just felled him again, this time with his words.

“Tonight… do what you want with me. I want to be right for you. I want to be… the person that is just right for you. Just the way you need them.”

“Phichit.” Chris covered Phichit’s hands with his own until he felt Phichit become very still, looking at him from huge dark eyes.

“You need to stop thinking about this, my heart. You are right for me already. Wholly and completely right.”

They made love until the sun came up. Chris could see it without needing to lift his head. He could fee it, too, how everything and he had changed. Outside the sun was climbing up in the sky, sneaking in through the bedroom window and manifolding the light that Phichit brought to this room, this house, this life. Until even the last corner was found and illuminated, and even the last bit of shadow driven away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought I'd better say it now before you all have a nasty surprise next week... if you have looked at the chapter count, we are almost at the end of this journey. And no, I can't believe it either. I feel like I only started writing and posting this yesterday. 
> 
> I'll start blabbing next week. You have been warned. xxx


	12. My Heart Beats To Your Song

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A day late but longer than all the other ones - here it is, the last chapter. I'm emotional. This has gone by so fast. I still feel like I only just started writing this story, and now here I am wanting to cling to these boys and cry "Noooo, I'm not ready to let you go!" :( I wasn't ready last night ~~or make that the early hours of the morning~~ , I wasn't happy with the way the chapter was, so I slept on it and worked on it some more. I wanted it to be good, a chapter I am happy to let out into the world. I wanted everything for these boys, especially for Chris. I wanted all the good things for my man Chris in this one. 
> 
> For this chapter, I want to thank Bunny for her help with all things gaming and Solnyshko_UK for help with the Italian. 💖
> 
> For this whole story, I want to thank each and every one of you for coming along on this journey. Thank you for listening to Chris and Phichit's story and for all the love you've been giving these boys (and me). I love you all. 💗💞💘

**12 - My Heart Beats To Your Song**

Chris opened the door and smiled automatically. He had not slept a wink, and when he looked at the inside of his upper arm he almost believed he could still see the visual of Phichit’s head resting there, and feel the soft brush of black hair against his skin. They had talked until an alarm went off that didn’t drive out any sleep because they were still high from the day and night before; it was merely a reminder that he needed to get up and let the caterers in. He felt it like wind beneath his wings, all the empty pockets of loneliness and doubt and self-pity that had kept him awake in the past and that were now filled with company and words and laughter where there had been no Phichit before. He had thrown on some clothes and made his way downstairs, greeted the caterers he knew well since he had been trusting them not only with the company summer party but also some private events for the past couple of years. He offered to help but they brushed it off with charming smiles and dismissive waves of hands that were too polite to indicate that he would only be in the way of their efficient workflows. So he stepped aside and let them make their way to the kitchen, bustling in and out like a track of ants for a little while until they had everything from the van and closed the front door on the crisp February morning.

Used to other people using his kitchen and making it their home, Chris kept well out of the way. He leaned against the counter nearest the door, nursing a cup of coffee that one of the caterers had shoved into his hand after she had shooed him away from the coffee machine. Sunlight was pouring in through the window front in his back, and he watched quietly, listened to the team exchanging instructions over the low clunk of pots of different kinds of soup placed on the stove and platters of finger food being put down on every surface. It had been a spontaneous idea, born just a few days ago when he found himself face to face with Siri after the big team meeting in which she and Yura had presented their concept for an interactive part of their website that would allow people to experience the way of their best-selling product, the chocolate spread, from the moment the cows gave milk to the sticking on of the labels. An option to design and print personalised labels for their chocolate spread had been one of the ideas that had gone down particularly well with all departments. After the meeting, they ended up having lunch together, him and Phichit, Yuuri and Victor, Sara, Yura, Georgi, and Siri. And Chris had realised what a delight Phichit’s sister was. What a great team she and Yura made, her dry humour working wonders on his grumpiness.

It was her question when she would be able to give him her birthday present that caught him off guard. And made him realise that apart from Lilia insisting on a dinner party in a fancy restaurant and them clubbing afterwards, he had no idea. No idea, and a huge house that was predestined for get-togethers and echoing even more with emptiness ever since Phichit’s family had been there and filled it with light and laughter.

He looked up when he caught a movement from the corner of his eye and Phichit walked in from the living room. Chris reached for him with one arm and pulled him close to his side.

“Can we postpone?” Phichit asked, rubbing his eyes while he rested his face against Chris’ shoulder. It felt exceedingly heavier, Chris could almost feel his tiredness.

“You don’t really want that,” Chris replied with a look at the bustle in his kitchen.

“True.” Phichit chuckled. “I want all the food and the fun.”

Chris turned his head and placed a kiss in Phichit’s hair. “Go back to bed for a bit. Sleep.”

“Not without you.” Phichit wound one arm around his waist. “I just need some coffee and I’ll be fine.”

He reached for the cup Chris was holding in front of his chest and took a large sip, then pulled a face when he found it merely lukewarm.

One of the caterers, a cheerful young woman with hair the colour of the whole rainbow, had a cup under the coffee machine quicker than Phichit could have blinked when she overheard his words, and a moment later the deep gravelling sound of beans being ground and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the kitchen.

“Wow, thank you.” Phichit took the cup she handed him. “Can we keep you?”

She laughed and turned back around to where she had been arranging fresh fruit on a serving platter in such an intricate way as Chris hadn’t seen since some of his travels and staying in hotels with a more extravagant breakfast buffet.

It felt like a lingering punch to the gut to Chris. Just one tiny word, out of Phichit’s mouth.

_We._

And yet it felt to him like it could make his whole world flip over.

They ended up taking their coffee upstairs, leaving empty cups on the window sill when they headed for the bathroom and showered together, cursing and laughing when they tried to turn the water as cold as possible so that they would wake up.

An hour later, the caterers had left and other people taken their place. Chris was watching his friends mill about, his friends and the people they loved, and how their two groups of friends intertwined and created one new whole entity with more of everything. Talks, laughter, dynamics. He was reminded of other Saturday mornings, only weeks ago, when he would have worked himself past the boundaries of the bearable in his gym, caught in his own hell between the Friday nights he knew Victor was spending at Yuuri’s for Bollywood nights and the Sunday evenings he knew Sara and now Victor too were cooking with everyone, again at Yuuri’s. His two best friends since early childhood, living a whole other life without him. He had believed for so long that they were right in doing so because they deserved better friends than him that he still felt the absence of this feeling like a missing piece that it took him a little while to remember he didn’t want back.

Now, he was right in the middle of everything. It felt like all kinds of exciting, new, and comforting sensations.

They had chosen their food in the kitchen and carried it out into the living room, the dining table in the jutty too small to fit more than six, and _that_ was already very crammed. Besides, the caterers had set up the sweets on glass table there. They fanned out across the sofas instead, pulling the small black cubes that made up the big coffee table apart so that they each had something like a small table of their own close by their side.

“Guys.” To his surprise, Phichit was knocking his fork against his glass and stood up. “Guys!”

Someone snickered, and sure enough, there was something slightly comical about the way Phichit squared his shoulders like he was about to give at least a Best Man’s speech at someone’s wedding. Chris watched him and felt his heart expand with emotion.

“As some of you already knew and others found out over dinner last night…” He looked down at Chris, who tried to hide an amused grin behind a brief, fake cough. “We are together. Christophe and I. We’re really official now.”

Everyone was staring at him. Nobody said a word.

Chris wanted to hide behind a cough some more, but he feared not even his hand would be able to hide the sheer power of the smile he felt coming on. It was moot, and he knew that as much as pretty much everyone else in this room, but he knew it was also important. It was important for Phichit, to draw a firm line under that moment right here in this very room when he had told Phichit that he called the shots.

“That’s it?” Siri finally asked.

Phichit nodded. His cheeks were pink, perhaps he was becoming aware of the situation he had manoeuvred himself into, but he stood proud and self-sufficient, his eyes shining as brightly as his face.

“But we knew that already. A blind man could have told you that.” Yura shrugged and returned his focus on the plate loaded with food in his lap, making a face like he was regretting he had even let himself be distracted from it for something so pointless.

“What are you doing?” Phichit asked Leo, whom he’d caught typing a message on his phone.

“Telling Otabek to stop taking contributions to the betting pool because you’ve finally decided to tell us what everybody already knew.” Leo didn’t even look up from the display as he replied.

Phichit gasped audibly for air, but he looked exceedingly sheepish, too.

“Thank you for taking your time though, Peach.” Yuuri raised his glass at him. His eyes were sparkling with mischief. “The pool filled up very nicely over the weeks, so we’re all getting a little more out of it.”

Phichit slumped down in his seat, defeated. Chris’ arms found its way around his shoulders instinctively.

“Does that mean I can finally post and tag you properly on Instagram?” Siri asked Chris.

“First of all _I_ get to post and tag properly on Instagram!” Phichit insisted.

A smile passed between Siri and Chris across the distance between the two sofas.

She raised her eyebrows meaningfully in Phichit’s direction. “Well, hurry up then and post something, I’ve been promising my friends pictures of a tall, blond Swiss hunk for days!”

She waited exactly two seconds after Phichit’s post had gone up - a snapshot of himself and Chris from the night before that Leo had taken from quite close up on the dance floor. Their faces were in the shadows, the brightly lit video screen right behind them swallowing almost all the light. But one could recognise them if one knew, knew the curve of Phichit’s forehead when his hair was smoothed out of his face, the sharp point of his nose as he tilted his face up, the angles of his chin and cheekbones. If one knew the carefully disarrayed mess of Chris’ hair and the line of his chin, the bow of his bottom lip and the impossible length of his lashes. They were leaning in, just one breath away from a kiss, every millimetre they turned towards each other screaming ‘TOGETHER’.

Phichit’s caption was surprisingly tame.

_My heart beats to your song._ 💓 _#happybirthday #glow_

Siri’s post included several photos, and the way she had captured the food and the garden in the background of the sweets buffet revealed that she had definitely picked up a trick or two from Phichit. The last picture was a selfie with Chris that she had needed only five attempts for, until she snatched her phone away from Phichit and announced he would have no more say in which picture she posted.

Her caption read:

_Celebrating my brother’s hot boyfriend’s bday._

Far away in Thailand, five other Chulanonts liked both their posts almost immediately.

They were somewhere between their first and second helpings from the buffet when the loud honking of a car was heard outside. It was too close and too insistent to be a mistake. This was definitely coming from Chris’ own driveway.

“I think it’s for you,” Sara grinned over the brim of her champagne glass at Chris.

He had already put down his plate and stood up from the sofa. Ready to raise hell with whoever dared cause such a racket outside, Chris made his way over to the door and yanked it open.

A voice called out through the open car window at the sight of him.

“Giacometti!”

The door of the car was opened and Michele got out.

“Crispino!”

Chris was in front of him in two steps and pulled him into a fierce embrace that lasted several minutes.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” At last Chris stepped back.

“I drove over your new baby.” Michele ran one hand over the roof of the car like a caress. “I wanted to deliver it yesterday, like a proper birthday present, but it wasn’t ready.”

“Yeah, I know you Italians are always late to the party.”

They laughed.

“There’s a Supercharger along the way halfway through Switzerland, by the way,” Michele said. “You can take this baby to Milan and back without worrying about your batteries.”

“I know. Who did you think had it put up there?” Chris grinned.

“I _told_ you I saw a fancy CG engraved on the side of that thing.” Emil had gotten out on the passenger side and rounded the car. “Hi Chris.”

He pulled him into a hug and wished him a happy belated birthday, before he took a step back and looked the red Tesla over longingly.

Chris shook his head, momentarily stunned. “Fuck, Mickey! Please tell me you didn’t get up to any funny business in my brand new car I haven’t even driven myself yet!”

Emil laughed. “Please. This is Michele Crispino you’re talking to. He has class, man.”

“Not that you didn’t try.” Michele frowned at him.

Chris made a growling sound that sounded like a pissed off lion and held up one hand.

“Stop! I love you, but I don’t want to know. Get inside, I’m going to park this beauty in the meantime.”

He caught the small black key fob Michele tossed him with one hand and slid behind the wheel, savouring the feeling for several minutes before he parked the car in his private underground car park, where the absence of the Jaguar left a gap he was only too keen on filling with new, positive memories.

When he came back inside, Michele was looking around the kitchen, where pretty much every surface held some kind of serving platter. “Is this all the food?”

Chris raised both eyebrows in an ‘Are you fucking kidding me?’ manner.

Michele pouted. “We should have a barbecue.”

“It’s the middle of February,” Phichit replied.

Michele shook his head and threw up his hands in that very Italian manner that conveyed to Phichit that he didn’t understand what Phichit was trying to say.

“Is there any rule that says we cannot have a barbecue in winter?” Michele asked Chris.

Chris shook his head. “Go right ahead. You know how to work it.”

“Sara!” Several people flinched at the volume of his shouting out to his sister. “Can I borrow your car? We’re going shopping!”

“If you’re really doing a barbecue I can make yakitori,” Yuuri said, looking up from the mini pizzas he was pondering over.

Several voices became loud, of everyone who had eaten Yuuri’s yakitori and felt the need to express the prospect of enjoying it again very enthusiastically. It made Yuuri a little flustered, and he glared in Phichit’s direction.

“Yuuri, what kind of chicken do you need?” Michele glanced up from where he was typing a shopping list into his phone.

Yuuri knitted his brows. “I’d better come with you, I need to see it before I choose.”

Michele nodded, looking around the room. “Anything else?”

“Cream,” Chris told Michele, peering over his shoulder at what he was typing.

“The disgusting canned stuff?” Michele asked without looking up.

“NO!” Several people yelled at him simultaneously, Phichit the loudest. “Proper cream, organic and bottled.”

Michele nodded again and kept on typing.

Chris and Phichit looked at each other and started to laugh.

Chris was outside on the terrace getting the cover off the barbecue when the door was slid open with the familiar quiet sound of the frame gliding back in its track. He glanced up to see Michele step outside, his phone in his hand but not close to his ear. It struck Chris as odd for a split second, until Michele held the phone out to him with a hint of a smile and a soft, “Somebody wants to talk to you.”

“It’s not my father, is it?” Chris frowned as he brushed off his palms against the back of his trousers.

Michele shook his head and handed him the phone, making sure to close the door behind himself when he went back inside as if he could give Chris privacy in his huge garden.

Chris kept on tugging at the barbecue cover with one hand while he brought the phone to his ear. “Hello?”

“Chris.”

He closed his eyes, just for an instant, to savour the warmth that always came with this voice.

“Massimo.” Memories flashed up in his mind of the last time they had seen each other. It had felt a little stilted, afterwards. Hearing his voice now, Chris fervently wished he could just forget about that night.

“Late for my birthday, like your son?” Chris smiled. Of course they had talked briefly the day before, exchanged congratulations and thanks for the gift basket of his favourite Italian delicacies that had been delivered to the office, most of them homemade by Sara and Michele’s mother. It was only afterwards that Chris had remembered that their relationship was meant to feel altered.

“I feel I’ve let you down.” It sounded like heartbreak. There was just the slightest static crackling, as if the telephone line was trying to remind them of what a strong and stable connection is.

“Oh no, Massimo, don’t…” Chris started but he was cut off by his godfather’s insistent voice.

“ _Sí_. Please. Let me speak. I was thinking about this all day yesterday, of the day you were born.”

Unable to stand in one spot as he listened, Chris walked a couple of steps down the garden, then back up the terrace. Through the glass door he could see the people inside. Saw Sara and Mickey laughing about something that obviously Phichit had said, for Phichit had that smug curl around his lips as he popped another cream-cheese filled cherry tomato in his mouth while everyone around him cracked up. Saw Rani curled up in Yura’s lap with a comfort that almost made him hear her purring all the way out here and that would have caused him pangs of jealousy just a couple of months ago. Saw Victor moving some of the appetisers around so that one platter was cleared and he could carry it off to the kitchen, but not without eating another piece of Morbier first. Their eyes met when Victor straightened up, the smile from that heart-shaped mouth and blue eyes hitting Chris to the very core of himself and calling up the echo of his own smile right back at Victor, stretching the corner of his mouth so wide that he thought he felt it all the way up to where his eyes stung all of a sudden. The kind of smile that carried the weight of a childhood spent growing up together, lives entwined so tightly that they shaped each other and somewhere under the surface of it all Chris knew their roots were grown into each other so tight they would never be able to disentangle them without pain. God knew Chris had hewn the axe of his toxic self-destruction into them often enough, removing chunks that for a while he had been afraid would never heal because the pieces he wanted to rip out of himself were hurting Victor. If it had been Victor, he thought, cutting off all ties with him after all the shit he had pulled, Chris knew he wouldn’t have survived. He didn’t want Massimo to do it. He didn’t wish this soul-searing pain, this particularly cruel kind of perishing on anyone. Truly no-one.

Chris watched Victor carry used plates to his kitchen, meet Yuuri halfway just down the three steps to the second seating area of his living room and pause for a kiss and a smile, and for a fleeting moment Chris frowned because he felt a tug at the sight of the two of them moving about his house. It was too deep inside and too indistinct to be something, but there was a _yet_ hiding somewhere in that sentiment that gave Chris a calming certainty, like a missed opportunity that does not hurt because it leaves behind a lingering _We will meet again, someday._

“Chris?”

The sound of the voice through the phone made him flinch like waking up from a dream.

“Are you still there?”

“Yes. Sorry.” Chris shook his head. “I’m still here.”

It wasn’t a dream. The people were still there, his people, laughing and swarming all around his house, and he felt an acute need to be inside with them. It was a new feeling, tender and fresh like the first green leaves that dared raise their heads and defy the February chills. And Chris felt as fragile as those budding leaves for a moment but that did not stop him from letting the feeling in, because for the first time in his life he knew with absolute certainty that he didn’t want to be on the outside looking in anymore.

“I know that I’ve failed you when I defended your father because I thought I was going to lose my best friend. I feel like I made light of your pain, and of the loveless life he inflicted on you. I wanted to do better by you. I saw that he couldn’t give you what he wanted to, because he was bitter and helpless. And I wanted to give you that, from the day you were born. You are in my heart like Sara and Michele. But that night I shut the door on you, and I am sorry.”

“Massimo.” Chris closed his eyes again. He clamped his lips together so tight that it hurt. His face convulsed a couple of times with the force of tears shooting into his eyes and him trying to fight them back.

“Everything I know of a father’s love, I got from _you_. You didn’t shut the door. It’s wide open. I can hear it in every word. I can even hear the tears I know you’re secretly crying into your one hundred Euro Brunello Cuccinelli handkerchief and that you’re trying to hide from me.” Chris almost managed to hide a little sniff behind a smile.

“ _Che bastardo!_ ” Massimo chuckled, the sound so deep and comforting that Chris felt it like a warm hugs coming down the phone line all the way from Milan.

He allowed himself a moment after they’d ended the call. Just to stand and look without seeing at the vastness of his garden, still almost caught in hibernation though there were some small patches of snowdrops that owed their existence to his previous life as an idiot who sought solace in drinking more than was good for him. There was a shadow of a memory somewhere deep inside, of a barbecue one late summer evening when they complained about the heat and started longingly to talk of winter. Victor had laughed so hard that he cried when the pack of snowdrop bulbs that they’d ordered online in their sudden enthusiasm was delivered to the office two days later. But he had accompanied Chris, their first and last trip to a DIY store ever, to buy a spade and fertiliser, and helped him get the bulbs into the ground.

Chris shook his head, but did not shake off the memory.

He smiled at the small flowers instead, and finally went back inside.

They got the barbecue going, not without Sara making some snide comment about how cooking meat over open fire always brought out the most archaic in men. Mila swung round at her words, waving stainless steel tongs as if to prove Sara’s words wrong.

In the kitchen, one pot of soup had been moved off the stove to make way for a large pot of _glühwein_ , and whoever happened to be near it opened and poured in another one of the bottles that Michele had brought from their supermarket trip so that they never ran out.

Chris made himself an espresso and drank it by the window, eating a petit four from the sweets display the caterers had set up on what was his dining table in the jutty next to the kitchen.

He pulled his coat a little tighter around himself when he went back outside, just in case the voices and laughter all around him wouldn’t keep him as warm from the outside as they did from inside.

“How are you, Siri?”

She looked up when Chris approached her, and took a quick step backwards and away from the floor-to-ceiling window she had been peeking in. The second of the two octagonal jutties protruding from the house was lit in equally soft, warm lights as its counterpart on the other side of the terrace that functioned as a dining room. From outside, they could see their reflections in the glass, and inside, the queen-sized bed that took up almost all of the space and sat at the top centre of the wooden octagon on the floor. To their left they saw a door through the window, leading out onto the terrace in a small stretch of wall that connected the jutty with the rest of the house, the space between the jutty window and the one further left looking in on the living room just as wide as the door. Inside the room, two more doors led away to the left and right of the bed, both closed now.

“This looks nice,” Siri said to Chris. She sounded almost a little dreamy. “It must be amazing waking up in this bed and looking straight into the sun-flooded garden.” She heaved a little sigh.

“It’s my best guest room,” Chris mused.

They both looked up when Phichit joined them, carrying two glasses of _glühwein_ one of which he handed to Chris.

“You’re a minor.” He raised one eyebrow in Siri’s direction. She rolled her eyes.

“But you can share mine.” Grinning, he passed her the glass, and she blew on the steaming liquid a couple of times before she took a careful sip.

“Siri was just admiring my best guest room,” Chris remarked. “I was about to ask her if she would like to stay over.”

Both Siri and Phichit’s head whipped around to him. Chris shrugged.

“Mickey and Emil will be staying over too, and I have more rooms because I’m not going to let anyone drive tonight who’s been drinking. Knowing my people, we will talk way into the night, raid the fridge at 3 AM and fall asleep eventually were we are. I think _brunch_ will end up one big pyjama party anyway and we’ve got enough food to feed everyone including Yura breakfast tomorrow. You’re welcome to stay. And you get first dibs on the best room. It has its own bathroom, that door there on the right.”

Her excited face reminded him a lot of Phichit’s when he spotted a stylish outfit or heard a beautiful song.

“I didn’t bring pyjamas, or a toothbrush, or the charger for my phone.”

Siri sighed, looking back in the window. The colour rising in her cheeks almost matched the rich burgundy of the spiced drink she was holding.

Chris saw Phichit’s eyes light up at the same moment he was going to suggest they could always get a taxi to drive them over to Phichit’s, get her things, and drive back in time for the barbecue, because he had seen Michele, Yuuri and Mila locked in some weird competition about how to bring out the most of the meat and all the barbecue functions. 

“Hang! On!” Phichit’s smile grew wide and slithered just across the border towards smugness. “I know someone who owes me a favour.”

His head swung around to the group of people around the barbecue.

“Yuuri!”

Yuuri raised his head when he heard Phichit calling. Frowning for a moment as if he was fearing for the fate of his yakitori skewers if he left them with the Italians and the Russians, he wandered over a last, pushing his glasses up on his nose.

“Peach?”

“Yuuuuri!” Phichit met him halfway and slung one arm around his shoulder as he walked him the rest of the way to where Siri and Chris were still standing by the guest room window.

“How many cups of _glühwein_ have you had?” Phichit asked sweetly.

“None, Peach.” Yuuri rolled his eyes. “You know what I get like. I kept to water and tea since the glass of champagne when we arrived.”

“That’s my boy!”

Yuuri looked every inch like he knew to expect the worst when Phichit acted like this.

“Remember when you didn’t come home from the Christmas party because you spent all weekend in bed with Victor at his place, and how you called me on Sunday evening begging me to bring you some clothes for work the next morning?” Phichit beamed.

Flustered and with a shy glance in Siri’s direction, Yuuri nodded.

Siri snickered into her _glühwein_ , while Chris pretended to cough into his hand.

“Today is the day you get to return the favour.” Phichit slapped Yuuri between the shoulder blades.

“Sure.” Yuuri nodded. “Do you need anything from home, Peach?”

“Not me, but Siri. Can you drive her home so she can get whatever she needs to stay over?”

Yuuri blinked. He looked from Phichit to Siri and back. Then he started laughing a little. He seemed relieved.

“Sure.” He smiled at Siri. “Whenever you’re ready.”

They made peaches and cream for everyone, Chris good-humouredly bearing all the teasing and the pictures and videos his so-called best friends took of him using one of the machines in his kitchen. Phichit in particular took a great shine to Sara’s suggestion of getting Chris an apron as a late birthday present, and whispered in Chris’ ear that he could wear it when Phichit taught him how to cook his mother and grandmother’s recipes, and nothing else.

“If I get to see your feather boa and that mesh top with the platform boots we can talk about it,” Chris murmured back quietly, face turned sideways as he leaned down against Phichit’s face to steal a kiss. He rolled his eyes at the whistles and cheers from their friends watching them, looking back at them over his shoulders with narrowed eyes.

“Who are these people?” he asked Phichit, his mouth curled into a little smirk.

“No idea.” Phichit shook his head, a shit-eating grin splitting his face. “It’s your house.”

He grabbed the grater from the worktop and started grating the chocolate Chris had already set out, moving so close that their arms touched as they worked side by side.

Someone found the remote control that switched on the stereo and the speakers all over the house.

“Dance with me, Christophe!” Phichit pulled him in when Chris was just innocently trying to cross his living room without bumping into spontaneously dancing friends.

They looked at each other and laughed when the song changed abruptly and ‘Crash and Burn’ began. Phichit caught Leo giving him a quick wave with the remote in his hand and a grin, before he faced Chris and instinctively moved closer into his touch. He smelt of his own shampoo, Chris noted when he buried his nose in the top of Phichit’s head.

“How are you, Christophe?” Phichit’s words and breath tickled, warm against the skin of his throat and close to his ear.

“Fine, Phichit.” Chris chuckled. He felt Phichit’s arms tighten around his neck, pull his face lower so that he could look him directly in the eyes when he raised his head.

“Not tired yet of all the people invading your house?” The concern was well noticeable, and not only in the soft, calming brush of Phichit’s fingertips along the nape of his neck.

“I am surrounded by friends. Driving the fucking loneliness out of every corner.”

Hearing his own words from their Day One quoted back at him made Phichit stop in his movements. As if they hadn’t been moving much too slow for the song already anyway.

“How can I be tired of this?” Chris rested his forehead against Phichit’s. “How about you? Enjoying all the food and fun?”

“Yeah.” Phichit’s smile said more than a thousand words. “You look happy. That’s what I enjoy the most.”

Chris smiled back at him. “You’re the life of the party. I’ve been watching you.”

“I _knew_ it!” Phichit gasped in mock horror.

He pulled Chris into a kiss that would have made Chris lose his footing if it hadn’t been for the whistles and comments all around them and something that sounded suspiciously like Yura making gagging noises.

“Who are these people?” Phichit asked, motioning back over Chris shoulder with his chin.

“What people?” Chris asked and pulled him closer. “I see only one.”

In his arms, Phichit blushed. It felt like the best part of an already fantastic day.

“I’m thinking about getting in touch with my mother.”

Several heads turned in Chris’ direction from where people were settled under blankets on the terrace furniture. _Glühwein_ was going, hands curled around mugs and double-walled glasses to warm them up. The fire in the steel fire pit was merrily dancing and giving off an excuse for warmth, first shadows of the wooden logs appearing on the inside of the large shell as darkness began to settle over the garden and the fairy lights made their presence known. From somewhere inside the house they could hear faint enthusiastic yelling where they knew Mila, Emil, Yura, Siri and Guang Hong were involved in a very serious Mario Party in the game room downstairs.

Chris could feel Phichit raise his head from his shoulder briefly, the intensity of his dark eyes on him. When he turned his head to face him, Phichit was frowning.

“I get where you’re coming from, but do you really think this a good idea?” Sara asked before Phichit could speak.

“I don’t know.” Chris sighed. “It’s just a feeling.”

“Gut feeling is usually right though.” Victor shifted on the lounger where he was sitting with Yuuri leaning back against his chest, a large woollen blanket covering the both of them all the way up to their necks. Chris could see Yuuri watching Phichit, his brows drawn together with slight concern.

“But that stunt she pulled last night when she showed up with that girl…” Still looking at Chris, Phichit tilted his head. “And I’m not saying this because I’m jealous!”

“Don’t worry, Phichit, you can take that girl down with one glare, you won’t even need your feather boa.”

Victor’s words were met with faint laughter.

“I know.” Chris wound his arm a little tighter around Phichit’s shoulder as if for reassurance. He would have been hard put to pinpoint exactly who of the two of them he was trying to reassure.

“I think it was one last desperate attempt at maintaining her footing in their circles. My father leaves her for another woman, but if she can still pull of the Hercules task of getting me married, I think she believes people would stop pitying her and still respect her.”

“People would respect her more if she’d told him to fuck off and stood by your side like she’s supposed to!”

Michele almost spat out the words, the fierce protectiveness of Chris in his eyes matching the fire crackling between them. Chris cast him an affectionate, gracious smile

“I understand, in a way. Mothers are… special. It’s different,” Phichit mumbled, somewhere below his shoulder where he was cuddling up against Chris’ side. “I just don’t want you getting hurt again.”

Chris noticed the looks and the smiles that went back and forth between Victor, Sara, and Michele, before they came to rest on him. It was the fire, the thought, and the _glühwein_ , driving the red into his cheeks. Not just the people closest to him acknowledging and celebrating Phichit as the newcomer among them in the inner circle of people he knew would kick ass if it meant standing up for him.

“Or are you subconsciously feeling like you should side with her against your father?” Leo, who had been quietly watching and listening until now, asked from the deckchair he was sitting in, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders like a heavy cloak.

“Good question.” Chris downed the rest of his _glühwein_. “Fuck me if I know.”

There was a brief pause of silence and flickering fire. Then Phichit muttered something, not quiet enough.

“I’ll take you up on that.”

The giggles and snickers around them danced as merrily as the flames in the fire pit, and warmed Chris just as much.

In Chris’ bedroom, Phichit was sinking back into the pillows with his arms wrapped behind Chris’ neck, pulling him into what he felt were five hundred kisses he hadn’t been able to give him all day. They had finally retreated to bed, locked the door behind them and lowered all the blinds just in case. They knew Yura and Emil were still up in the game room but everyone else had retreated to the various guest rooms and the house had become quiet.

They undressed slowly, bodies winding around each other with the elegance of shadows on the wall in the romantic glow of one bedside lamp.

He should have been tired, Chris knew, even more so than Phichit, who sighed into his every touch with a pliancy and tenderness that seemed to have been born some time the night before when something had shifted and left them feeling bare and naked with no shadows left between them anymore. Chris felt it, the complete lack of resistance within himself when he spoilt Phichit with caresses, leaving not an inch unkissed. He almost regretted having to miss the expressions on Phichit’s face as he moved down on the bed and Phichit’s legs fell apart, but the sounds he made, the gasps and sighs, more than made up for it.

He was almost there, scraping his beard along the sensitive stretch of skin just below his abdomen like he knew Phichit liked, already nuzzling the apex of his thighs and breathing in that most intimate scent, already feeling the quiver of silky erection against his shoulder, when Phichit froze under him.

“What… wait. What are you _doing_?!” Alarmed, Phichit sat up, resting his weight on his elbows as he looked down at Chris almost scandalised.

“If I have to explain it to you, Phichit, I might as well not even start.” He smirked, chin propped up on his hand and an elbow that was placed so well centred between his thighs that Phichit seemed to know he would be able to rub his cock against Chris forearm if he shifted his hips just a little bit.

“I know that, but… _now_?” He tried to reign in hysterics but the lack of sleep and a couple of drinks and the fact that he was just blatantly horny did nothing to prevent his voice from peaking.

“Your house is full of guests! My _sister_ is downstairs!!!”

The way Chris remained so unfazed was obviously infuriating.

“As much as I want to but we cannot possibly have sex now!” Phichit inched a little way back up on the bed, just in case. “Unless you’re that much of a spoilt brat rich bitch that you soundproofed your bedroom!”

Chris said… nothing.

And Phichit’s eyes became saucers.

“OH MY GOD!” He clamped one hand over his mouth, then, as if remembering what he had just learned, let it fall away. “Oh my god, you have!”

He laughed, a little hysterically. Shook his head. “I don’t _believe_ you! Does anyone know?”

“No.” Chris smiled, somewhat meekly. “And I hope you won’t tell anyone.”

“Of course not.” Phichit shook his head with more vigour. “Not even Victor?? I cannot believe you!”

“Phichit.”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up and let me do this?”

Phichit’s head fell back on the pillow, defeated. His hands fisted in the sheets. His breathing sped up.

And Chris slid further down on the bed and held Phichit’s thighs open with one shoulder and the flat of his hand, while his other hand closed around silky warm flesh that strained against his touch. Chris watched from up close, every pulsating vein and the pounding of the blood as every feeling of Phichit’s seemed to concentrate on his cock. Chris tugged and pulled, revealing the swollen head and the first beads of pre-cum gathering. He almost missed the low curses Phichit muttered somewhere above his head because his heart was pounding so frantically and the blood rushing in his ears all of a sudden. Then he let his tongue dart out and lick across the slit, tasting salt and musk, and Phichit whimpered.

It was all the encouragement he needed. He pressed his lips to the head, closed his eyes to the onslaught of sensations, familiar cravings thrown over by something entirely new and exciting. His lips wanted and he gave, holding Phichit’s cock with one hand as he lowered his head and started to take inch by inch into his mouth.

“Shit…” Phichit’s voice was breathless. “Oh _shit!_ ”

One of his hands found its way into Chris’ hair and grabbed a fistful, sending tingling shivers down Chris’ neck and spine. He wanted to move, Chris felt it in the strain against the hand holding down his thigh on the bed, in the smallest bucking of hips that fed more throbbing cock into his mouth and made Chris moan around it. He let his tongue add to the pressure, pushing against the length in his mouth before he pulled his mouth off and licked around the glistening length with firm strokes of a tongue that knew exactly what it was doing. He felt the exact moment when Phichit gave in and decided to let him have his way.

The hand in his hair fell away by his side like a puppet that had that particular string cut. The hips stopped bucking, the thighs stayed parted like this was their natural position. And Chris closed his eyes and sucked him deep and slow into his mouth. He savoured his taste, let the intimacy of the act fill his every sense. He knew Phichit so well by now, he didn’t need to see him to know a flush of arousal was tinting his face and neck and chest. He knew his nipples would be hard, dark nubs begging for attention. He knew damp black strands of hair would quite possibly stick to sweaty temples and drag across his pillow where Phichit’s head was thrashing restlessly. The sounds coming from his mouth were high and helpless, almost sobs.

Chris’ own sounds were deep and appreciative. He made love with his mouth.

He made slow, lingering love with his mouth until Phichit’s cock twitched frantically against the back of his throat and there was a warning somewhere in the mindless babbling spilling from Phichit’s mouth that only made Chris suck him deeper into his mouth until he had him right where he wanted him, spilling down his throat and shaking. Chris savoured every drop of him, sighed around the softening flesh as he let Phichit’s cock slip very gently from his mouth, only to lap up every last musky remnant with eager little kitten licks.

He felt his own hard cock dragging along the sheets as he made his way back up, kissing a trail across Phichit’s stomach and chest as if his earlier path were the breadcrumbs of kisses he was retracing now.

Phichit’s eyes were open, although heavy-lidded. He looked quite wrecked, and very tired. He tried desperately to stifle a yawn when Chris kissed his lips very softly, but the exhaustion of two sleepless nights was catching up on him.

“Sleep,” Chris smiled against his mouth. One of his hands came up to smooth some strands of hair out of Phichit’s face.

“What about you?” Phichit murmured, his hand wandering blindly down on Chris’ body.

“I’ll be okay in a minute if you stop groping me.” Chris chuckled. He stopped Phichit’s hand with a gentle grip on his wrist and brought it up to his mouth to place a kiss on each one of his knuckles instead.

Phichit was out within minutes. Chris pulled a blanket over him, before he sneaked into the bathroom. He took his contacts out and dropped them in their solution, brushed his teeth, then stepped into the shower and almost automatically grabbed his cock and jerked off under the hot spray, his forehead resting against his arm where he supported himself against the shower wall, eyes closed as he recalled the texture and taste of Phichit’s cock in his mouth until he came, fast and silent.

Back in bed he moved as close to Phichit as he could without waking him. One arm placed over Phichit’s waist, Chris closed his eyes and let all the feelings in.

It was almost 3 AM when Chris decided that sleep would not find him and quietly rose from his bed. He watched Phichit’s sleeping form for a couple of deep, even breaths long, then put on the first pair of jeans he could find. He was already almost by the stairs when he pulled the grey Aran sweater over his head and tugged it down. The house was quiet, all the doors on the upper floor closed. He made his way downstairs without a sound, small nightlights inserted in the walls leaving a faint orange glow. He had altered the timer earlier so that the house was not in complete darkness while he was having guests who might get lost in it.

The living room was deserted, the fairy lights still illuminating his garden outside. He sneaked down one more floor. In the game room Yura had fallen asleep on the huge couch, sprawled out over the whole decadent size of it with his long limbs and hugging one of the gold lamé pillows. Rani was curled up by his side, the red Nintendo 3DS he must have been playing with lay folded up on his other side. The TV screen was still showing the menu of _Pirates of the Caribbean_ DVD that was, as usual, in the player. Chris switched it off and grabbed the blanket from the foot of the couch to unfold it and place it over Yura before he quietly went back upstairs.

In the kitchen he switched on the small light above the stove while he removed a corner of cling film from one of the platters of appetisers they had covered and left out on the counter because they didn’t need to be refrigerated. He swung around when he heard footsteps nearing from the living room. Sure enough, the next moment Victor shuffled in.

“Hungry…” he murmured and switched on the lights.

Chris jumped a little when the ceiling lights flickered on. Not because of the sudden brightness but because of some other phenomenon.

“Victor, why!” he asked, his eyes huge behind his glasses.

Victor looked down on himself. It hung off of him like an outrageous monstrosity of clashing colours and styles, like a knitting experiment gone horribly wrong. For the first time on this day that had gone completely different from how Chris had planned, he felt like he was losing control of what was going on in his house.

Victor’s hand came out of one blue sleeve and pushed his bangs from his face as he looked down on himself. The sweater covered the black leggings he was wearing until just a hand’s breadth above the knees. “It’s Yuuri’s favourite sweater.”

“Yes, I figured as much. I know the legend. My question was, why are you wearing it and not burning it outside while he’s asleep?”

Chris turned away to rummage around in the fridge some more, taking comfort in the sight of beloved food items that were much easier on the eyes. He could hear Victor moving around in his back, the faint clank of a new plate being put out, followed by the crisp sound of the bread knife sawing through baguette. And then Victor’s voice, half amused, half pouty.

“You know, Chris, one day Phichit will show up in something really atrocious that’s been living at the bottom of his closet for years and you will feel my pain.”

“Not bloody likely.” Chris closed the fridge door and held up a plate towards Victor. “Cheese.”

Victor nodded and took the plate from him, picking a piece of brie right away like he hadn’t eaten for days.

“Victor.”

“Chris.”

“Do me a favour and switch off the light, _mon cher_. That sweater gives me the creeps.”

“At least it smells of Yuuri and not of sheep like yours,” Victor replied, but he switched off the light.

While they were still arranging an assortment of cheese, fruit, bread, and different antipasti on a large plate, the lights came on again when Michele walked into the kitchen. Both Chris and Victor squinted at the sudden dazzle.

“What the fuck are you wearing?” Michele recoiled a little at the sight of Victor.

Victor just rolled his eyes.

Michele went over to the stove and lifted the lids of the pots until he found one that struck his fancy and turned on the hob. Chris said he would light the fire on the terrace again and get their coats and blankets, snatching one of the grapes Victor had just arranged in a pretty pile next to the cheese. Victor glared at him when the grapes fell over each other with one of them missing, but Chris was already gone.

“Didn’t I just know I would find you with your large Italian nose in the pot of minestrone, Michele Crispino?”

Sara yawned as she wandered in and made her way over to where Michele was currently stirring in one of the pots with a wooden spoon.

“How?” he asked, seemingly trying to wriggle out of her octopus-like embrace from behind.

“Twin senses.” 

It took them another twenty minutes until they were settled on the seats around the fire again, plates of food and bowls of soup and hot drinks on the table between them while they huddled up in their coats and blankets and their hands only dared to emerge when they were reaching for more food or drink.

“ _Che cazzo fai!_ ” On the outdoor sofa, Michele tried to hold on to his blanket when Sara lifted one side of it and for a moment it looked like she was going to steal it. Though in truth she merely wriggled her way under it and as close to him as she possibly could.

“Dammit, Mickey, let me under your blanket!” Sara rolled her eyes.

“You have your own!”

“That’s not enough! I’m cold!”

Chris exchanged a grin with Victor. They knew the twins’ tiffs only too well, had grown up with them.

“Chris, I’m begging you, get one of those outdoor heaters already!” Sara snuggled deeper into her blanket and into her brother’s side.

He shook his head. “They are hell on the environment. I’m never going to buy one of these.”

Sara huffed small white clouds of condensation into the night air.

For a long time they just sat and looked into the flames. Chris let his eyes wander over their faces, felt the trust and the comfort only they could give him. His favourite people, minus one. He very nearly told them. How glad he was that they were here. But then he remembered he didn’t need to. They knew. They were sitting huddled up with him around a small fire on his terrace on a cold winter night like it was the most normal thing in the world. Of course they knew.

“I could do with a steak,” Michele mused eventually. “Can we light up the barbecue again?”

Chris shrugged and made a ‘Go ahead’ gesture with one hand. That, too, was the most normal thing in their world, he thought. That one of them wanted to flame-grill steaks in the middle of the night and they didn’t bat an eye.

“Is there any of Yuuri’s yakitori left?” After an intricate process of freeing himself from the blankets and his sister’s grasp, Michele rose from the sofa and walked over to the barbecue.

Sara laughed out loud. “Even if Yuuri made yakitori for three hundred people, there would never be any left. Yuuri’s yakitori brings all the boys to the yard.”

“Well, they can all fuck off,” Victor said and bit into a piece of bread like a statement.

The others laughed.

“Do you know that Siri is still awake?” Michele motioned towards the other end of the terrace, where he could just about see the second jutty and light still on in the guest room through the curtains drawn on all the windows.

Chris frowned. “I’ll check up on her in a minute,” he said. “Throw on a steak for me, too, will you?”

A short time later, Chris knocked on the guest room door.

The “Come in!” followed almost immediately and he opened the door and peeked inside. Siri was sitting in bed, wearing a pyjama that looked so fashionable and grown-up that Chris would have bet good money on the fact that this was a gift from Phichit.

“I’m sorry for disturbing you, but we saw the light was still on in your room and wondered whether everything is okay?”

“Yeah.” She smiled. “I’m drawing. Suddenly I felt so inspired. And when inspiration hits, there’s nothing I can do about it.”

Chris nodded. He was already halfway out the door when he opened it again and poked his head in once more. “In case you’re hungry - we’ve started the barbecue again.”

Her eyebrows climbed up. “It’s almost four o’clock in the morning.”

“I _know_. Best friends.” Chris winked at her. “Total pain in the arse.”

She laughed.

“Don’t hesitate to come and get some food if you feel like it. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

He closed the door and went back to where his best friends were waiting for him, in that comfortable silence where no words were needed and all the quiet explanations were home.

By Sunday afternoon all the guests were gone. Chris stood in the door of his house, Phichit in his arm, back to his usual bubbly self after catching up on sleep, and they waited until the taxi that took Michele and Emil to the airport had disappeared out of sight. Most of the leftover food was also gone, the barbecue cleaned and back under its cover, the kitchen sparkling and the caterers’ dishes and kitchenware clean and neatly stacked in the corner of the worktop for them to collect the next day.

Siri had gone home with Yuuri, despite Chris suggesting she stayed another night. But she insisted she hadn’t brought enough things for one more night, and didn’t want anyone having to drive her around again to fetch her things. So when dusk fell over the garden, Chris found himself alone with Phichit, cuddled up on the couch in front of the TV where the evening news ran quietly in the background. Rani lay across both of their laps, purring under the touch of their hands in her fur.

“It’s quiet.” Phichit leaned his head back against Chris’ shoulder, shiny hair brushing against his jaw where he snuggled up into the curve of his neck that seemed made for him.

“It’s perfect either way.” Chris breathed a kiss in Phichit’s hair. They might have been gone but he still felt every sentiment in every room. The laughter had left an echo behind, the voices and love and life left invisible imprints on the walls. There wasn’t a speck of loneliness left in any corner of his house.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

On Monday morning Phichit did a double take when he arrived at his desk and could barely see it for the huge bouquet of red roses taking over the entire space. Memories washed over him, and he could almost feel the warmth of Chris’ amused smile on him, and the shifting of the weight on his mattress that night when Chris sat down beside him on his bed and they talked about the red rose a secret admirer had left on Phichit’s desk one Valentine’s Day.

“Will I have to take sneaky pictures of your lovesick face all the time now?”

Yura reached over and snatched the card from the bouquet. His face contorted into a snarl when he read the message out loud.

“‘Be my Valentine, every single day of my life.’”

He dropped the card on Phichit’s desk as if it was about to burn a hole into his fingers.

“I think I’m going to be sick.” He made the face to go with his words, crossed eyes and tongue hanging out for a moment, accompanied by the appropriate gagging noises.

“What’s romantic for _you_ then?” Siri asked. She was pulling out the chair from the desk on Phichit’s other side that had been abandoned until she started her internship. 

“Nothing. All that romantic crap makes me want to puke.”

Siri bestowed a smile on him that was as good-humoured as it was pitiful and said very clearly that she felt he was still a clueless little boy who would be eating his words at some point in the future.

Phichit wanted to hug his baby sister and smother her with the pride he was feeling right at this moment, but he was pretty sure she wouldn’t take kindly to him doing this here and now, so he made a mental note to do it later and just placed his coat and bag over the back of his chair and switched his computer on. It was a heady feeling, seeing words from his favourite song on the small card from the florist that was nothing like the tacky cards he had seen way too often on display when he got flowers for someone. This one was stylish, just sturdy, cream-coloured paper with words someone had printed on by order. They read like just dancing and voicing these words on Friday night had felt. Sexy and promising all at once.

A window popped open on the internal messenger as soon as his computer was running.

**Christophe Giacometti**

**_online_ **

_it’s about three days too late, I’m sorry_

_and not so secret_

_you’ve seen the note I hope_

_I’ll make up for it tomorrow_

Phichit glanced over at Yura, hunched over his computer screen, although he glared over at the roses from time to time as if he felt personally attacked by them.

Phichit’s grin became wolfish when he thought of the face Yura would make the next time Chris sent him flowers to his desk. Hunched over his keyboard, he typed a reply.

**Phichit Chulanont**

**_online_ **

_I can’t wait!_

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Saturday evening found Phichit on his living room couch with his laptop in front of him on the coffee table. It was surrounded by an array of soft drinks and take-out cartons that gave off a most mouthwatering smell. He and Siri had ordered practically the entire menu from his favourite Chinese place, and when he turned around he could see her arranging boxes of her own on his desk in the order she was going to eat things in.

She was going to use the screen on his desk for their gaming night they had organised with everybody. On screen he could already see their characters waiting around outside the tavern where they usually met, and he placed his controller beside him on the couch in order to eat something first before they started.

“Oh no,” Siri said, the shock doubled in the sound coming from both the headphones and the fact that she was in his back.

“What?” Phichit did not take his eyes off of the take-out cartons he had been pouring over and the one currently trapped between his socked feet. The shiny outside of the box was way more slippery against the cotton fabric of his socks than he had reckoned, and not letting it slip required all his concentration.

“Lucifer has found a companion.”

“You’re joking.” Phichit grabbed the box of _Kung Pao_ chicken he had lifted up with his feet and carefully balanced into his reach by drawing his knees up to his body.

“I wish I was, Apricot. It’s all your fault, look at the name!”

“What the actual…” Phichit’s eyes widened, and not only at the sight of the name. “SwissMeadows, are you fucking kidding me?!”

He plonked the carton he had just so carefully and artistically lifted up back down on the coffee table. Not even Phichit Chulanont had ever picked up his phone as quickly as he did right at this very moment.

“What the hell?” He shouted down the phone in his agitated-not-suitable-for-reality monster slayer computer game voice, pushing his headphone down until they curved like an oversized necklace around his throat. “Really, Christophe? Really???!!!!”

That low, deep chuckle that he loved so much except for right now at this very moment came down the line. It was so many things to Phichit. Now he added ‘infuriating’ to the list.

“That’s not funny!”

“Oh, but it is.” Chris laughed and hung up. Phichit stared at his phone in his hand for a moment, then he threw it down beside him on the couch with a little huff. His eyes returned to the screen.

Chris’ character moved about in the forest clearing where they were currently all gathered. He looked hot. Of course he looked hot, Phichit thought. He looked like Chris. Trust Christophe bloody Giacometti to model his online game character after himself, down to the last hair in his well-trimmed goatee and the sparkle in his sea green eyes.

“Oh no…” Phichit shook his head as he watched, wide-eyed, how Chris’ character walked up to his own. A little pop-up window sprang up on his screen, informing him that SwissMeadows wanted to kiss his character and gave him a _Yes_ or _No_ option.

“Oh _no_! I’m going to lose all my credibility.” Phichit shook his head, again or still, he couldn’t have said.

His eyebrows shot up when he heard what he could have sworn was Leo yelling “ _Get_ it, Chris!” on the other side of the wall that separated his living room from Yuuri’s next door. He knew the guys were all watching, he could see their characters on screen, close by to his and Siri’s. They were, in fact, laughing. On and off screen. Yuuri’s character was doubling over with laughter. Phichit could see him, he didn’t need X-ray vision through the wall to know Yuuri was hitting his controls like a madman right now, making his character double over with laughter. He walked his character a little closer to Phichit’s especially. The bastard!

“Oh my god, Phi, you are hopeless.”

Before Phichit knew what was happening, Siri was leaning over the back of the couch. She grabbed his controller and clicked _Yes_ so quickly that all Phichit could do was stare at the screen, mouth and eyes wide open, and watch how his character was grabbed by Chris’ and dipped slightly back while he planted a kiss on him that was way more intimate than a computer game should allow. And this time it was not just his imagination. His so-called best friends were really screaming and laughing next door, playing it up for his benefit especially, Phichit knew. They made their characters dance, too, and Phichit felt the hot scathing pain of every prank he had ever played on them like a boomerang to the head. To add insult to injury, Siri was laughing loudly beside him, still leaning over the back of the sofa with his controller in his hand.

And Lucifer666 wrote _That’s my grandson and his boyfriend!!!!_ in the chat. The public one.

Phichit rolled his eyes. His face was glowing as he wrestled his controller back from Siri’s hands and cleared his throat so loudly that it sounded almost comical and set her off again. She was still laughing when she was back at his desk, moving her headphone back into place.

“Can we _play_ now?” Phichit asked pointedly as he adjusted his headphones.

“Of course, Peach.” Over the headphones, Yuuri’s voice was dripping with amusement.

On screen, Yuuri’s character quickly ran away from a kick Phichit’s was trying to land on him. He stopped a little way away from, and laughed some more.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The café was busy with the afternoon crowd when he arrived. Students and shoppers were the main customers at this time of day, hogging almost every single one of the sturdy wooden tables. All the furnishings were painted in soft pastel colours, the walls sporting posters and artwork resembling the cakes on display behind the glass counter. The coffee machine was spluttering over the bustle of voices. He caught the attention of one of the waitresses over the counter and gave her a big smile while he perused the cakes and already told her he would definitely have a slice of the raspberry cheese cake. He wasn’t even really in the mood for cake. He was merely buying time.

Taking a deep breath that was drowned out by the sounds of busy café around him, he turned around to face the room.

He spotted her sitting at a table in a nook near one of the windows, a glass of water in front of her. His legs felt like made of lead all of a sudden as he began to walk over.

“ _Maman_.” She rose when he approached the table, leaned in so he could place a kiss on each cheek. She smelt of violets, like she always had.

“Thank you for coming,” she said with a careful smile.

Chris didn’t say anything.

He waited until she had sat down again, then he took a seat himself. The waitress appeared almost soundlessly by their side to take their order for coffee and place a plate holding the cheesecake Chris had ordered in front of him.

They didn’t speak until their order arrived. It was then that she looked up. He could see the movement of her throat as she swallowed. Strangely enough, he also felt like he heard the deep breath she took over all the lively café sounds. A great sense of wonder filled him.

“I am very sorry about showing up on your birthday like that. It was a ridiculous idea, and I feel very ashamed of it now. I was desperately trying to cling to what I knew. I thought I could... I don’t even know what I was thinking.”

Chris tilted his head. He gave just the faintest nod. It was almost laughable, how well he knew all those feelings she was describing. He watched her hands, absentmindedly playing with the wrapped complementary biscuit that came with a cup of coffee here. She turned it over and over between her fingers. They were not perfectly manicured, Chris noticed, perhaps for the first time that he could remember.

He let his gaze move to the slice of cake on the plate in front of him as if it was an anchor he could find support with, in this bizarre moment facing a mother he wasn’t sure he had ever known, and with his own strange desire of craving, different now from what he’d wanted all his life. It looked tempting, the deep red raspberry swirls making him want to lose himself in their intricacies. It would be his reward, he decided. For saying what he had come to say.

When he raised his head again and faced her, he looked into his own eyes.

“I am never going to get married to a woman, _Maman_. Never. And I cannot promise you grandchildren because I feel so scarred and like I was never taught how children should be raised the right way… I cannot promise you those, either. If you can’t live with that, then there’s no point in us trying to establish some kind of mother and son relationship.”

They stared at each other for a long time, the world falling away from them and leaving them alone, turning around them while they tried to find words to say in the void between them. 

At long last she nodded.

“I would like that. If we could… get to know each other. And try to establish some kind of mother and son relationship.”

Silence fell over them again, the world that had picked them up and spun them around put them down in their seats again. Chris picked up his fork and had a first taste of cake. It tasted like comfort.

“What happened to him?” he asked abruptly. “The man _you_ loved.”

“He died about ten years ago. Sailing accident.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It was like a light went out in my life when he was gone.” She took a sip from her coffee. Her face looked like the beverage tasted of nothing. “As long as I knew he was around, somewhere… I felt it was bearable somehow.”

Chris put down his fork. He drank some coffee, set his cup down again.

“I have a boyfriend, _Maman_. For the first time in my life I’m in a really wholesome relationship. He brings so much light and joy and happiness to my life. He is like nothing I was ever looking for and everything I need. And I’m happy. He makes me really happy. And do you know what I do? I listen to sad French songs about the times when he’ll have left me and how my life will go down the drain. _That_ is what you have made of me. This is the kind of love I have learned from you. I didn’t think I would ever relate to anything with regards to love and you, but… I can relate to that. A light would go out in my life if he was gone.”

Their eyes met across the table.

“I’m happy that you are happy.” The words sounded unpractised, yet sincere.

For a while they kept their eyes on their coffee and cake, not talking, like two strangers who had ended up at the same table because there had been no room anywhere else.

“I thought I would be happy if I can make you proud of me. I tried to make you proud of me.” Chris put his fork down again and looked up.

“For the biggest part of my life I thought that if I only worked hard enough and made the company bigger and better, you would finally see that I am the son you want and be able to acknowledge me. Be proud of me. Love me. But then at some point I realised that I didn’t care anymore. It wasn’t about you anymore. I thought I was on my own, but I wasn’t. Now I know I had transferred my love to someone else. The company is my family now. Victor and Sara are. The Crispinos. Lilia and Yakov. Our employees. They have become my driving force. I gave up trying to want to make you love me.”

He took a deep breath. It felt like it was cutting his chest in half.

“I was so overwhelmed,” she admitted. “You needed so much love.”

“I was a small child, _Maman_! I had _every_ right to need that love, to _demand_ it.”

There was nothing she could reply to this. Chris felt grateful that she didn’t try.

“It hurt, _Maman_ , never being good enough. And then the letting go. Cutting myself off from you. It hurt like a bitch. And it’s the best thing I have ever done for myself.”

She nodded. She looked in the same kind of pain he had just tried to explain.

“I just… wanted to function. All my life I just wanted to function. I thought if I did what was expected of me I would. Function, I mean. I wanted to be loved. So I complied and did what was expected of me. And it never made me happy.”

Her words seeped through the focus he was giving the half eaten slice of cake on his plate. Chris raised his eyes again, held her gaze for a very long time before he felt he could bring himself to say the words.

“I guess now I know where I get it from.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Phichit was sitting at Yuuri’s kitchen table, his laptop open in front of him, coffee cups beside it. A song was playing, and he had his chin propped up in one hand, clicking through the pictures from their karaoke night with the other hand. A picture of Chris with the microphone in his hand had the memories crashing down on him, his mind interchanging the voice coming from the speaker for a deeper one.

“So you _have_ shared playlists now.”

Phichit looked up at the sound of Victor’s voice. Victor was leaning over, grinning so knowingly at the picture on the screen that Phichit minimised it.

“I love this song,” he admitted over the mellow French ballad Chris had sung at karaoke.

“So does Chris. Do you know what the lyrics mean?” Victor tilted his head, almost expectantly.

Phichit shook his head.

“Victor, can we give the dogs a run in the park on the way to the supermarket?” Yuuri came from his bedroom, where he had changed out of his suit into a comfortable jeans and sweatshirt combo.

“You might want to check them out sometime.” Victor rose from his chair with a smile and gave Phichit a gentle pat on the shoulder before he turned to Yuuri with a loving “Of course, my darling.”

Phichit saw them off with a wave. He nodded when Yuuri told him to have another coffee and see himself out. When the door closed after them he checked his phone. Still no message from Chris. Phichit pulled his laptop closer and started to search for the lyrics to the song that was still playing.

His eyes widened. His lips moved as he read out the words, quietly to himself in Yuuri’s kitchen.

“‘ _After you, I won’t be able to live any longer… I won’t be able to live any longer without remembering you…_ ’”

He pushed his coffee cup away from him, eyes glued to the laptop screen.

“‘ _After you I will have wet eyes, empty hands, a heart without joy_ …’ Bloody hell.” Phichit shook his head, drawing up his shoulders as he peered more closely. “‘ _With you, I have learned to laugh, and my laughter comes from you…_ ’”

He switched off the song, took on the lyrics without the double onslaught.

“‘ _After you, I will be able to give my affection but nothing of my love… After you I will only be a shadow of your shadow, after you_ …’”

Phichit grabbed his coffee cup again and downed the rest of the by now cold coffee in one go. He slammed the empty cup down so hard on the table that the thud resounded loudly through Yuuri’s empty apartment.

“What the fuck, Christophe!”

His own voice sounded unnaturally loud too.

Phichit shut down his laptop, made sure everything was switched off in Yuuri’s apartment, and headed out, closing the door behind him with all the sudden resolution he felt.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Chris looked at his mother across the table. In many respects, it was like looking into a mirror. He saw those very eyes in the mirror every day. The same shade of blond. He would see the same curls if he didn’t defamiliarise them with expensive products.

He wanted to ask if she was okay. If she needed anything.

He didn’t.

“Have you moved out already?” he asked instead.

She nodded. Swung her hair back so that blond curls flew behind her ears and shoulders almost defiantly.

“She is taking my place.”

She paused to think, shook her head.

“No, actually. Maybe it was never my place. Maybe it was always her place to begin with. I was just pressed into her mould and it never fit me. She’s welcome to it. She’s welcome to take my place at those stupid golf functions he attends and you know what? I’m relieved. I was so angry for the longest time, but then I realised on the day that I moved and closed the door behind the company after they had brought up my last boxes that normally, on that day, I would have had to stand around the green listening to the talk of all the other wives, and I wasn’t. And you know what I did? I sat down on one of the boxes and laughed. And then I cried, and cried and cried until I laughed again. And I couldn’t tell you when I was last so relieved and so scared at the same time.”

Chris couldn’t help himself. He had to smile. It sounded so much like something he himself would do.

She picked up her fork, picked at her cake again, moved chocolate crumbs around the plate.

“I am so sorry.” Tears glistened in her eyes when she looked up. “I did everything wrong. I feel like my whole life… I just did everything wrong. I didn’t speak up when I should have. I didn’t talk. I feel like I can’t even talk to you because we have nothing to say to each other.”

“Perhaps we just never thought of the right words.” Chris took another sip of coffee. A brief distraction, a gathering of thoughts. It seemed bizarrely fitting, that the thought support should come from china as thin and fragile as this tentative meeting with the person who should be closest to him yet wasn’t.

Chris cleared his throat. “Someone very smart who saw me at my worst said to me… sometimes we need to fall very deep and break completely before we can start becoming whole again. Take every single piece of ourselves into our hands and decide if we want that to stay or go.”

He swallowed hard, holding her gaze across the table. Maybe it was the flecks of hope that he saw in those eyes. He recognised them because he had seen them before, in another mirror. Later, he couldn’t have said where it came from, only that it felt right to think the words already. It was a gut instinct, the kind that made him agree to or step back from new business proposals. It hadn’t always served him so well with people. But he was better now. And he owed this to the boy that still walked through empty rooms deep inside him. He knew before he even spoke them that they were the right words to say.

“Perhaps next time you can tell me about some of those pieces of yourself.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The glass door swung open, revealing the open terrace area with the comfy wooden furniture in the outside seating area. He stepped out with one long stride, nodding at the waitress clearing a table outside in passing and making sure to make it a grateful, flirty smile he gave her. It was the one who always cut the slices of cake just a little bigger for him without charging extra. He knew her name and always made sure to tip generously. It was all that he could do to politely rebuke her non-existing chances, he knew, suddenly unable to repress a compassionate sigh as he walked away from the café. He knew this feeling well, hoping in vain that someone was having the same intentions as oneself.

He felt the eyes that followed him, the heads that turned as he walked by, and the repressed giggles and whispers. It made the smile strain the corners of his mouth a little, and he flexed his fingers in his pocket, keeping them occupied where they would have pulled a cigarette from a pack before. He was a well known figure in this city. He had built a life here, just like the people who worked for his company and had placed their dreams and the existence of their families’ in his and Victor and Sara’s hands. He had his own dreams to add now, his new life he was building here on the ashes of the old one he had burnt down.

There had been a time when he had loved the swoons and heart palpitations he could leave behind when he walked past and graced people with one of those smiles he knew he wrapped people around his little finger with. He didn’t enjoy the hushed conversations now, and the stares he got. He didn’t care for the smirks. Every time he returned the smile of some random person he could never be sure anymore whether they had seen the nude and intimate pictures of him or were simply being nice.

Holding his head up high he yanked off his already loosened tie and stuffed in his pocket as he crossed the street and headed for the parking lot, bestowing a smile here, a nod there when someone greeted him.

The parking lot was full. He made his way around two rows of cars, until he found the one he was looking for. Without hesitation, he opened the passenger door and slid onto the seat. Turning to the left, he met the curious gaze from dark eyes.

“Everything okay?” Phichit asked.

Chris nodded.

“How did it go?”

A sigh filled the inside of the car. “I want to meet her again. We have a lot to talk about.”

“Christophe…”

It was just his name, but the whole coloratura of Phichit’s love and fear swung in those two syllables.

“I know, my heart. I know.” Chris reached over to take one of Phichit’s hands in his.

“What she did was unforgivable.” Phichit threw the words at him like a challenge.

“ _I_ have done unforgivable things and yet, here I am. With _you_ ,” Chris said patiently.

“You cannot compare this.” Phichit rolled his eyes. “You cannot possibly compare this to Victor and your stupid bet!”

"I’m not. I just… _feel_ this, Phichit. So strongly. I feel it almost as strongly as what I feel for you. I look into her face and I see myself, and I think about how someone reached out to me when I was at my lowest and saddest, and how it made everything better for me. And I want to know. If I have it in me to be what other people have been for me. Forgiving.”

Phichit’s eyebrows came up, stern and sharp. “Do you promise me you’ll take a step back and forget about it as soon as you feel it hurts too much or might turn you into sad Chris again?”

Chris leaned in until their faces were almost touching. “In a heartbeat.”

It took a couple of breaths until Phichit stopped huffing.

“I told her about you.” Chris smiled.

Phichit’s face softened. “You did?”

Chris nodded. “I told her about my boyfriend and the fact that he lights up my life, and is the best thing that has ever happened to me, while I’m being a terribly insecure idiot who listens to sad songs in French that already bemoan the time when he’s left me.”

“Yeah, about that.” Phichit moved back a little and held up his phone that had been lying in his lap. The playlist looked painfully familiar. “I think we should delete it.”

One of Chris’ eyebrows rose significantly higher.

Phichit took a deep breath, as if for courage, but also defiance. “Don’t get me wrong. I love this song. I’ll always love this song. You sang it for me at karaoke. But I never knew what it’s about.”

“And now you do?”

“Victor tipped me off.”

Chris took a deep breath, but Phichit was adamant. He dropped his phone in his lap for a moment to cup Chris’ cheek with one hand. “I’m glad that he did. I looked up the lyrics, and quite frankly, I don’t like you feeling like that. I don’t want you to worry about a time after me. There will not be a time after me, not if I have anything to say about it. And I plan on having a hell of a lot to say about it.”

They moved closer instinctively, drawn towards each other, only one direction for the both of them.

Phichit’s lips were warm and inviting when Chris found them with his mouth. They kissed where words didn’t go, sinking into a deeper understanding that Chris had never known he could feel with another person.

“Nice distraction, Christophe. I still think we really should delete this song,” Phichit gasped when they broke apart, foreheads pressed together.

“Okay.” Chris nodded, his lips searching for Phichit’s again, eager to take his breath away.

They watched, together, heads touching in a mesh of black and blond as they bent over the phone screen, how Chris’ thumb hovered over the button for a moment. Then he deleted the song, from his playlist, and from his library. It felt scary, like so many other things he had done for himself over the past couple of months.

“Ready?”

Phichit’s black eyes met the gaze of his green ones in the small space between them, liquid fire holding a million promises that made the heart want to jump out of Chris’ chest with the force of a punch to shatter everything that he was and rebuild.

Chris nodded.

“Take me home, Phichit.”

The smile lit up Phichit’s whole face and took hold of Chris’ too.

Took root.

Phichit started the car and pulled out of the parking lot, exchanged a glance with Chris and smiled more deeply, as he steered the car on the road. He was aware of every emotion that filled the space around them with meaning, like the fire burning inside him, and the warm presence beside him that was Chris and all they could be.

Would be, Phichit corrected himself, as he pulled out in traffic and drove them home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't miss the epilogue going up in just a few minutes. xxx
> 
> ... for everyone who's wondering what Chris' thoughts about watching Victor and Yuuri in his house and that Yuuri and Phichit moment in chapter 10 were all about - [this is a glimpse into the future of this house.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26322289)


	13. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

**14th February.**

Christophe,

A couple of months ago I secretly took this photo of you. I was crushing on you so hard, and I had so many daydreams and no hope at all that you would be mine one day. It wasn’t meant to be for anyone by myself. But I’m giving it to you today. Because I don’t know what better gift I could possibly give you than this.

This is what I see.

This beautiful, confident, vulnerable, fucking strong man - this is you.

I want you to have this and look at it and remind yourself of all the things you are if you forget.

I love seeing the person you are allowing yourself to be. I love being with that person, and being able to celebrate you today. I am so grateful that there is you. You deserve to be that person, you deserve all the happiness and all the fire in your eyes.

_Oh, my love, don't stop burning._

Happy birthday!

P. xxx

~ ~ ~ ~ ~~ ~ ~ ~ ~

**30th April.**

_Dear Phichit,_

_I am writing this in the early hours of the morning, while you are still asleep in the first bed we ever shared. It’s_ _your_ _birthday but your face when you realised I was bringing you back here, to our happy place where so many things started for us, was almost like a gift to myself. There is no snow this time, and yet, I can’t wait to kiss you again under that lantern and feel like we’re coming full circle. I can’t wait for you to check me out in the swimming pool, and to share a whisky in the evening, and to lie in the whirlpool with your head against my shoulder while we’re staring at the sky. I can’t wait to give you this day, this holiday, and everything you deserve, and all the days to come._

_Happy birthday, my heart._

_Thank you for the first 159 days of the best and the happiest and the most wholesome relationship I have ever been allowed to experience. Thank you for making me a part of your family. And for not running away and making_ _me_ _stop running from all the toxic things in my life, but lighting the fire to help me send them up in flames._

_You truly are the light of my life._

_And the words you wrote onto my heart with your fingertips after the first time we made love. I’ve finally figured them out._

_Phom rak khun, Phichit Chulanont._

_I love you, too._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, thank you all for reading and giving love to this story. ❤️❤️❤️
> 
> I'm currently working on a new story I am quite excited about - a camboy Victor story, hopefully starting to post very soon. Perhaps some of you will check it out, it would make my day. Thank you and all my love to you all. 
> 
> And now I'm going to make some peaches and cream and cry bittersweet end-of-a-fic tears into it.


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